


OT3

by supposed2bfunny



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mentions of non-con, PTSD, Sex, Threesome, Violence, ask to tag I guess, graphic depictions of sex, mentions of depression, please ask to tag, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2018-12-12 00:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 54,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11725962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supposed2bfunny/pseuds/supposed2bfunny
Summary: Title is obviously a work in progress. Russel is a bit surprised when he learns that 2D and Murdoc have begun sleeping together when the band reunites for its second album. He's even more surprised when they invite him to join them in bed one night. Still reeling with his own grief at having lost Del, he enters a mire of complicated feelings, guilt, and jealousy. But hey, the sex is great.





	1. Actuality

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, Beck here with another installment of smut, this time with multiple chapters and character development! Please hit me up if you have suggestions for an actual title? Please? Also, although the first few chapters have already been written, I'm looking for suggestions for later chapters as this fic moves along. Please reach out if there's anything you'd like to read in particular! Please let me know what you think. As always, thanks so much for reading!

Ch. 1-Actuality

In all actuality, Russel was not looking for a relationship. At all.

Losing Del was painful: the rapper had come to be not only the phantasmagoric shadow of his dead lover, but a part of his own soul as well, bound to him posthumously through the spooky sort of luck that always seemed to follow Russel from the time he was young. After the Grim Reaper took Del away for good, he knew he may never love again, and he accepted it. Del had been The One, and anyone else was sadly doomed to pale in comparison. In the time after the Gorillaz’s first hit album, he had to admit that things were rough. The loneliness was staggering, the grief left him numb to the world around him.  
And then, suddenly, the Gorillaz reunited.

Then there was Noodle to take care of, and with her English suddenly fluent, her memory returned to her, and her musical genius in full bloom, Russel was finally able to devote himself to someone and something again. As it turned out, Noodle’s memories of her former life were shocking and wild, and he found himself once again connecting with the young teen as she instinctively latched onto him, desperate for a supportive and parental figure behind her choppy haircut and playful demeanor.2D had changed too: time at home had made him a bit cockier, more sure of himself around his friends, in public, and particularly around Murdoc. He was a little more present, certainly a little sharper. And Murdoc, after his stint in Tijuana, was wild, a little darker, yet sharper than ever with a new depth to his bass playing that was downright greasy at times.

The music revitalized Russel.

He reengaged in the haphazard family that was Gorillaz, keeping a watchful eye on Noodle, making sure Murdoc didn’t get into too much trouble (though in the long run, these efforts would be in vain), and trying to keep track of how many pills ‘D was popping (still a lot).  
While he continued to grieve for Del and ached desperately for his ghostly inspiration and rapping prowess—a few songs Noodle had written for their second album she had intended for Del to rap in or give feedback on, a realization that stung like a wasp—Russ did the best he could, and that turned out to be pretty damn good.

Finally able to focus on something aside from his loneliness, he felt the fog of his depression lifting. Colors returned to the world, and so did noise. As ever, the sounds they made were tight.

While Noodle’s sudden fluent English and crazy stories took center stage (though Murdoc did fight valiantly over meals and recording sessions to make his own heinous stories stand up to hers), Russel was aware of another shift in the band that seemed to want to go unmentioned.  
2D and Murdoc had become involved with one another.

Russel was hardly surprised. As far back as The Paula Days he could recall feeling an occasional charge that could only be described as sexual between the singer and bassist, but neither man had ever made any mention of it. Well aware of the complications of being into your bandmates, Russel had been respectful enough not to bring it up, and both musicians had brushed aside whatever spark was between them, opting instead to focus on producing songs and conquering the world with their presence.

Certainly during the recording of Gorillaz, something had happened. Russel just sensed it: the two had fucked. On more than one occasion, he caught 2D staring at Murdoc while he tuned his bass or adjusted the volume on some of their equipment; the singer’s eyes would linger over the shorter man a bit longer than necessary. Similarly, he had noticed Murdoc had begun to touch the singer more often, and not in a violent manner either. Brushing 2D’s hand when leaning in to bum a cigarette, leaning against him briefly when watching movies on the couch, touching the singer’s ankle with his Cuban-heeled boots during practice sessions to get his attention if he wanted to change how a tune sounded.

Maybe they didn’t realize that he noticed, but he noticed.

Nothing escaped Russel’s observation.

Which is why when they joined together once again, it was even more obvious than he had remembered. They became nearly inseparable. While Murdoc had spent most of his time out in the Winnebago during the recording of their first album, he was now more present with the band due to its loss, taking meals with them and even going so far as to take an occasional nap in the living room, guard down in a surprising show of trust to his fellow bandmates that almost, almost touched Russel. Furthermore, wherever 2D went, Murdoc was sure to follow. Russel noticed that he couldn’t get through watching a movie or TV with 2D without Murdoc swinging by the room at least once, as though to check on him. Sometimes he would drop next to the singer and watch as well, more often he would give some unlikely pretense for stopping by, then pop off. By the second time this happened, Russel knew he was just making sure he knew where the blue-haired man was.

Perhaps the most obvious giveaway that the two were together was their sudden synchronized sleep schedule.

Part of the reason that Murdoc had once spent so much time in his Winnebago was because he was practically nocturnal. Staying up until the early hours of the morning and sleeping until mid-to-late afternoon had been his norm, a bad habit that had escalated as the band’s fame exploded and Murdoc’s hedonism did the same. Russel knew this from the times he had tried to find Murdoc, only to find him out cold in the nasty sheets of his dirty mobile home, surrounded by empty bottles of booze, pills, lingerie, and the occasional stray tramp. Now, not only was he always nearby, but he stayed awake throughout the day and disappeared at night, always at the same time that 2D did. Neither man was an early riser, but they always seemed to rise at the same time suddenly. Russel was no idiot; he knew they were sharing 2D’s bedroom and 2D’s diurnal habits were wearing off on the bassist.

So to suddenly be reunited, only to see them together, was an interesting turn of events to say the least. Distantly, Russel processed that he was happy for them. On more than one occasion, he would walk into a room to find them necking, or simply overhear personal or explicit things being said as he approached them before they realized he was near and rapidly made to act as though nothing had been going on.

He had been polite at first. He’d clear his throat or stomp loudly to alert them to his presence, then act nonchalant as they broke apart and acted as though they had merely been talking or bickering, 2D often flushed with embarrassment and Murdoc scowling aggressively. There was no reason to object to their behavior, after all; whether or not they wanted to bring it up to him was their decision to make, not his. They were fighting less, and when they did fight, it was not vicious, just part of a habitual dance. They seemed to rely on one another heavily, and Russel didn’t dare question that. Who was he to challenge happiness?

Over time, he also realized that he was a bit jealous. Where was the justice that he should lose Del, his partner, his musical muse, while a dirty, boozy bastard like Murdoc should get to corrupt the sweet albeit dopey 2D and find a happy ending? It was this vague sense of resentment that led him to slip up one day. Noodle was off in her room, no doubt playing one of her handheld games or composing yet another number one hit, and the three boys were smoking and listening to some of their recording sessions, trying to figure out which tempo suited each song the best.

The singer and bassist were particularly touchy-feely that day, with 2D’s long, long legs stretched up and resting atop Murdoc’s bony knees. The bassist, far from complaining, continuously leaned forward, ostensibly to hear the music better, and more likely to rest his legs over the narrow shins on his lap.

Russel was feeling very much like a third wheel, and he felt his patience wearing thinner and thinner first as they shared a cigarette, then their hands brushed while reaching to adjust the treble on their speakers, and finally when they started in a round of completely unnecessary, feigned bickering.

“I just think that if we’re going for a groove, then we should slow it down, make it more like trip-hop. That’s what the song’s going for.”

“My bass is hyyypnotic already, dullard; the tempo’s fine for this bloody song.”

“I’m telling you Muds, it ain’t a groove right now. Don’ you think, Russ?”

“Oi, don’t bring the lard-ass into this conversation: he’s got nothing to say!”

Russel exhaled slowly to keep from swinging at the bassist. “Actually, Murdoc, I do have an opinion. I’m with ‘D on this one. I think the slower version sounds better.”

Murdoc, gearing up for a proper hissy fit now that he was outnumbered, threw his hands up, mismatched eyes flashing with indignation. Making to get up out of his chair, he shoved 2D’s legs off of his lap in a sudden flare of aggression.

“’Ey! Watch it, Muds!”

“Shut your face, Dents. If you two like this shite recording so much, I’ll leave you to it. You picky queers can have your bloody say on every damn song that makes it to the album. Me, I’ll just provide the rhythm then, so everyone’s happy!”

Russel was feeling exasperated, but 2D seemed sincerely remorseful, instantly feeding into Murdoc’s guilt trip.

“Wait, Muds, don’t go!” he begged, rising and making to follow after the enraged bassist. “We can work something out: your opinions matter! We won’t leave you out of the decision-making process, right Russ?”

“Of course not,” Russel answered coolly, though his fingers curled into fists at the slur. “Though I’d watch what you say, man. You really want to call me a ‘queer’ when you and ‘D are clearly the ones getting it on? Nobody likes a hypocrite.”

The reaction was instantaneous. 2D turned bright red, turning his black eyes to Murdoc, who completed the circle by looking at Russel, his face comically surprised, eyes wide and stance frozen. He held this position for a few loaded seconds, and Russel held his own, watching him thoughtfully, refusing to break his gaze.

“You…what did you just say about the kid and me?”

Realizing he had reached a point of no return, Russel crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s obvious to me. Been obvious for quite a while now, if we’re being honest. I don’t mind, man. I’m not the type to judge. Just watch what you say, alright? Since you two give yourselves away all the damn time. I get sick of pretending. Can’t we just let things be out in the open?”

Murdoc remained immobile for another beat, then two, 2D watching the whole time, waiting to see how the bassist would react. Finally, Murdoc moved like lightening, launching himself at Russel. 2D was just as quick, and he stood between the two men, grabbing Murdoc’s shoulders and shushing him.

“It’s alright, Muds, don’t hurt him! Russ says it’s okay!”

“Step aside before I knock you aside, Dent Face,” he growled.

“Hey,” Russel snapped, rising and standing before both of them, hands up to convey that he wasn’t looking for a fight and also ready to rip 2D away lest Murdoc begin swinging at any moment. “I’m not throwing insults around. I mean it. I’ve known for a while, seriously. I wasn’t gonna say anything, I just slipped up. But really. Your business is your business. I won’t say anything, so don’t get all defensive. Chill, Muds.”

Murdoc slowed down and ceased to struggle against 2D, who continued to hold onto the smaller man’s shoulders nonetheless. “Yeah?” he finally asked, cocking his head to the side. “You knew? And you didn’t say anything.”

“Have you ever known me to be up in anyone’s business?”

“Nope!” 2D responded brightly, eager to shift the tone of the conversation, to convince the bassist that no harm was meant and no brawls would be necessary. “I believe Russel! Heh heh…it’s true, yeah. Muds an’ I are kinda like dating now I s’pose you could say.” The faint flush over his face darkened a bit, yet it was more with pleasure than embarrassment. It probably felt good, Russel figured, to finally be able to say it aloud to someone. Lucky him.

“We’re not dating, we’re fucking. A bit exclusively. That’s all,” Murdoc groaned, though he too was now sporting a faint blush and he seemed to run out of things to say much sooner than he normally did. There was no bite to his words, and it was pretty clear that his refute was a reflex rather than a sincere correction of 2D’s statement.

“Whatever,” Russel responded, anger evaporating into amusement. He breezed past both of them to the door. “Listen, your secret’s safe with me. Date, fuck, whatever. I’m done dealing with you two for now though: y’all get on my nerves. Go with the slower recording though, Murdoc trust me.” And then, because he couldn’t resist, he turned to look at them from the doorway, offering an uncharacteristically cheeky wink. “Sometimes it’s better when you slow it down. If you know what I mean.”

Their jaws dropped simultaneously as he headed out of the recording room in search for Noodle, very pleased with how he’d conducted himself.

Really though, he truly wasn’t looking for a relationship. Let 2D and Murdoc have some fun: he didn’t need any of it.

That being said, it blindsided him a few months later when the couple approached him one afternoon, only to propose that they wanted him to join them in bed for a three-way.

Russel could still remember the can of soda he had been drinking, the way it slipped from his large hand and bounced onto the floor, spilling a dark, fizzy stain in its wake as he blinked, shocked into silence.


	2. Proposition

Ch. 2-Proposition 

The problem with telling 2D and Murdoc that he knew they were together—and letting them know that he was perfectly comfortable with it—meant that now Russel had to endure their couple-ness all the time. No longer would they break apart if he happened to walk into a room while they were kissing (in fact, Murdoc seemed to take the drummer’s presence as a challenge to get 2D to be as vocal as possible during a snog session, the prick). No longer did either of them feel any need to hold back their innuendos during conversations. Who knew 2D could be so lewd? No longer did fucking Murdoc restrain himself from playfully smacking 2D’s ass multiple times a day. 

It didn’t anger Russel, not exactly. 

It just reinforced how badly he was missing Del, and also made him feel even more like a third wheel rather than an equal whenever he was around the two men. He missed being romantically involved with someone and he missed intimacy. It was a pain constantly gnawing at him. They were so different, and yet so happy together, so eager to be side-by-side always, to support each other.

Between the singer and the bassist coupling up and Noodle growing up into a thoughtful, independent young girl, Russel began to wonder if he had a place in Gorillaz any longer. Wasn’t it always the drummer that was treated as an easily-replaced member of the band? That happened with the Beatles, right? What was that original guy’s name? He couldn’t remember. And God, their stint in L.A. before breaking up the first time—the amount of ‘dumb drummer’ jokes that had circulated at all those parties, Russel laughing along because he didn’t know what else to do. Vaguely, he wondered if he had any other assets in the world, and what he would do after they released their second album. He wondered if Noodle, 2D, and Murdoc could see themselves moving forward without him. Would they even notice he had gone?

One late afternoon, he sat on the couch, soda in one hand, book in another as he tried to push these thoughts out of his mind. Bukowski was hardly a sympathetic companion, however, and his poetry was only serving to grate on Russel’s nerves, to agitate him more, the casual mysoginy coupled with the causual alcoholism (it was like reading a book written by Murdoc) had him kicking himself for leaving his half-finished Trethewey novel at a friend’s house before rejoining the band in Kong.

He glanced up but didn’t say anything when Murdoc, and then 2D entered the room. Murdoc walked slowly, making his way over to the couch, hesitating, then sitting on the opposite end, as far away from Russel as possible. Rather than claim the middle spot, 2D sat down on the arm of the couch, perched above Murdoc. Russel attempted to stay focused on his book, but he recognized the nervous finger fidgeting of 2D out of the corner of his eye, and, taking a long sip of his soda, he closed the book and set it on the counter beside him, turning to his two bandmates.

“Okay, 2D is nervous. What do you want?” he asked, turning to them.

He started a bit, finding that Murdoc had been staring at his face the entire time, and immediately locked eyes with him, his expression thoughtful.

“Erm…we both have a proposition for you,” Murdoc answered, shrugging and instinctively reaching out to rest his hand on one of 2D’s knees.

2D merely nodded and shifted his leg slightly, encouraging the bassist’s touch. He kept his mouth shut though, and seeing that he would be the only one talking, Murdoc continued.

“We’ve been chatting lately. We know that you know. About ‘D and me. And we’ve been discussing the uh, um, the possibility of…that is—”

“—If you’d want to, of course—”

“—Of you maybe joining us some time—”

“—If you don’t want to, that’s fine, just tell us!”

Murdoc was becoming visibly agitated with 2D’s interruptions, and he squeezed his thigh, earning a yelp and forcing out the rest of his statement. “If you’d want to join us in the bedroom one night. No strings attached of course. No obligation; just an invitation. We’ve agreed we’d both like to if you’re down for it.”

Russel stared at them in shock. Slowly, his grip on his can of soda loosened and the can tumbled down onto the floor, spilling all over the carpet. No one moved to clean it up.

Once the silence became uncomfortable, Murdoc grunted and nodded. “I see. ‘s’fine. You don’t have to. We just figured you were a little bent yourself, and it might be fun. Thanks for playing.” His embarrassment gave an edge to his sarcasm that snapped Russel out of his stupor. He reached out and placed a huge hand on Murdoc’s shoulder as the bassist moved to get up. He felt tension there, muscles straining taught over bone.

“Did you just…invite me to have a three-way with you and ‘D?”

Murdoc passed a glance to 2D, who nodded shyly and smiled first at his lover, then at Russel.

“Yeeeaaah, mate,” the green-skinned man replied, drawing out his vowels in one of his signature nervous speech patterns that Russel knew well. “But we weren’t trying to scare you. Don’t let it keep you awake at night, alright? We ain’t ogling after you when your back is turned, or nothin’. Anyway we’ll get outta your face then—”

Russel squeezed Murdoc’s shoulder, willing him to stay seated. “Relax. You didn’t scare me or anything. I’m just. Surprised. Maybe a little flattered. I don’t really know how to respond. But I do know that I need some time to think about it, okay?” he asked.

Murdoc shrugged harshly out of his grip and nodded, reaching into his jeans pocket and procuring a pack of Lucky Lungs. “Got it, mate. Let’s go, sunshine.”

He rose and strode out of the room quickly, and 2D hopped up and made to follow, but not before fixing Russel with a gentle, hesitant smile. “If you’re uncomfortable, we’re really sorry, Russ,” he murmured. “But really…feel free to join us if that’s something you’d like.”

And with that, he followed the bassist out of the room.

Russel shifted slightly in his seat, mind spinning. His sneakered foot brushed the now-empty soda can that lay, abandoned on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, he shook his head in disbelief. 

Sex with 2D and Murdoc? Together? Sure he’d had threesomes with beautiful men and women once the band became big, but that was different. This was joining an established couple. Two of his best friends. The dim-witted pretty boy and the rapier-tonged asshole. Mentally, he could scarcely process such a thing.

And yet.

At the same time, the thought of intimacy like that…kissing 2D’s delicate face, making him moan with that ridiculously high voice of his…pleasuring and being pleasured…it had a definite appeal. Russel cleaned the soda stain out of the carpet and then headed into the recording studio, making a bee-line for the turntables. He needed music to clear his head.

It was weeks later when he approached the couple. It was mid-morning, and they sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper together, sharing toast and jam for breakfast. Well, 2D thought they were sharing. Murdoc would raise the toast to 2D’s lips, and the boy would take a bite without lifting his eyes from the paper before him. Murdoc would then retract the toast, bring it to his own lips and pretend to take a bite, then return the food to the singer. The process continued for a few minutes as Russel made himself a cup of coffee. The drummer knew that 2D’s pills often dulled his appetite. Without being prompted to eat, he was prone to forgetting completely, and on rare occasions, passing out when his blood sugar bottomed out. Still, it was both surprising and sort of cute to see Murdoc treating this issue in such a way, and so typical of him to have found this technique to be effective and indirect.

Neither man paid him any mind; after the initial awkward day of inviting him to bed for a threesome, the two had resumed normalcy around him, and he had gladly followed suite. Watching them, seeing Murdoc’s wordless attentiveness to 2D, something solidified in Russel’s mind. He had been almost positive of his answer waking up, and now he knew for sure.

“Hey, you two,” he said, turning to face them.

“Already had coffee, don’t want any.” Murdoc snapped, eyes still on the gossip section of the paper.

2D turned and fixed a smile at Russel. There was a smear of strawberry jam on the corner of his mouth. “What is it, Russ?”

“In regards to that question you asked me a while back. I’ve decided that the answer is yes,” he said, smiling although suddenly he felt nervous. What if they had changed their minds? Had he waited too long to give an answer?

Murdoc turned to him, and now two pairs of eyes appraised him for a few moments.

“That’s great! Friday night, then?” 2D asked, breaking into a wide smile. “Say, nine? Don’ be late; the old man may be asleep if you come past that!”

“Right, that’s it!”

“Ow! Muds!”

“You earned it!” Murdoc spoke, looking up from the singer, who he was currently smacking gently with a now rolled-up newspaper. “Anyway, Friday night, nine o’clock sharp. Glad you’ve decided to join us for some fun, mate. Do wash up beforehand, won’t you?” he winked, and Russel swallowed a hot mouthful of coffee with a nervous gulp.


	3. Initiation

For the umpteenth time that night, Russel checked himself in the mirror. He was not given to vanity, but on this particular night, he felt that it was important to set a good impression. He didn’t want to look like an idiot with loose strings on his collar or a smear of toothpaste on his face.

It was vital, he felt, to set a good first impression before meeting 2D and Murdoc.

The reflection that stared back at him from the mirror was acceptable. He looked nervous as hell, but not bad. He’d settled on a black, short sleeve button-up shirt, one he’d worn to a few interviews. 2D had once commented how he’d liked the soft material. Would 2D remember that comment tonight? Did it matter if he did? This coupled with a pair of dark-wash jeans (he doubted they expected him to dress formally: they’d be taking their clothes off anyway, right?) and some moccasins Del had always coveted completed his look. He considered dressing the ensemble up a bit with a watch or a nice belt, but he realized he was missing the point.

This wasn’t a date with Murdoc and 2D; he was meeting them for sex. Just a one night stand. He’d consented to it. They weren’t going to be looking at his clothes, they would (hopefully) be ripping them off eagerly.

Russel felt the butterflies in his stomach take off in a flurry at the thought. It’d been so long since he’d felt wanted, truly wanted, and the joint interest of both bandmates meant a lot to him, regardless of how casual it was.

The digital clock on his bedside table officially read 9:00. Murdoc had said 9pm sharp, but Russel was the type to always show up fashionably late, and he knew knocking at the exact meeting time on 2D’s door would make him come across as desperate. Instead, he took the time to spritz on his subtlest cologne, smooth his shirt once more in front of the mirror, and make his way leisurely down the twisting hallways of Kong Studios to the singer’s room. On his way out, he made sure to slip a few condoms into his pocket. He doubted that the couple would be unprepared, but given that he was dealing with the sleazy Murdoc and the singer who sired countless bastards, he wanted to be absolutely sure.

Since the building was so huge, it took quite a while for him to get there, and by the time he froze outside the familiar door, his heart rate had sped up, pounding a nervous rhythm within his ribs. Now or never, he thought, raising his fist and knocking three times on the door.

“That you, Russ?” Murdoc’s voice rang out after a moment.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. C’min. An’ lock the door behind you.”

Taking a deep breath, he obeyed, slipping into the room and locking the door behind him lest poor Noodle end up scarred for life. He turned to face the two, and his breath hitched at the sight he was met with.

2D was already a mess, his baggy tee-shirt shoved up to his collarbone, exposing his long, pale torso, jutting hip bones, and two pert nipples. His arms were splayed across his bed in a show of utter defenselessness, and his hair was mussed terribly, his cheeks bright pink. He turned his black eyes in Russel’s direction and bit his lip.

Murdoc sat on his knees on the bed with 2D’s legs drawn up over his shoulders. The singer’s skinny jeans were still on, and Murdoc was mouthing at the prominent bulge between his legs hungrily as his arms held the blue-haired man’s legs in place.

“Sorry we started without you,” Murdoc spoke with a shit-eating smirk, cheek nuzzling the zipper of 2D’s jeans. “Got a bit impatient, we did. Couldn’t help ourselves, eh, ‘D?”

The singer whimpered and nodded. “J-join us, Russel,” he encouraged, beckoning with long bony fingers.

“That’s a good look for you, ‘D,” Russel impressed himself with the bold statement. Both men smiled at the comment, and he felt confidence bloom in his chest. He could do this. Seeing them already rearing to go had his blood running hot, and arousal was warming his lower belly pleasantly. “I’d like to get a taste myself, if Muds here doesn’t mind—”

“Ah, ah, ahh,” Murdoc cut him off, motioning for him to freeze as he moved closer to the bed. “Strip. Then you can join us.”

Russel narrowed his white eyes at the green-skinned man. “No fair. You’re still fully clothed. So’s ‘D.”

With an Olympic roll of his eyes, Murdoc reached down and yanked the tee-shirt over the singer’s head. 2D yelped in surprise, and then whined a meek 'Murdoooc' as his jeans were also assaulted as soon as the shirt had been cast onto the floor. Murdoc whipped his own shirt off at record speed, yanked the singer’s legs back to their previous position on his shoulders, and cast Russel a childish look.

“Better now? C’mon mate, don’t waste my time, at least take your shirt off.”

Choosing to be more amused than annoyed, Russel conceded to the demand, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, being sure to make a show of it. As he had hoped, it made the others impatient.

2D let out an annoyed groan. “C’mon, Russ. Please hurry. Please.”

“Yeah, fatty, not like we got all night.”

“Oh, I think we do have all night,” Russel responded, unclasping the last button of his shirt and shrugging it off, pleased with the way both men admired the muscular curves of his shoulders and arms. He had always struggled with his weight, but playing the drums had given him a powerful build in his upper body. “I was hoping the two of you would be a little more ambitious,” he continued cheekily. But hearing 2D beg like that was getting him worked up, and he knelt on the bed, smiling from one man to the other.

“Don’t try me,” Murdoc responded smoothly, his wide smile belying the fun he was having. “I’ll go till dawn. Try to keep up.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” he answered, leaning down to run a hand over the smooth skin of the singer’s pectorals. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yeah!” was the eager response, and suddenly 2D was reaching up, digging his blunt nails into the meat of Russel’s shoulders and yanking him down into a deep, dirty kiss.

Russel moaned into his mouth; 2D’s lips were warm and wet and skilled. The singer tilted his head continually, experimenting with different angles, and his breath came in airy spurts. He whimpered softly when Russel opened his mouth and ran a hot tongue over his lips, urging him to kiss deeper. The wordless request was met with enthusiasm, and 2D opened his mouth, causing their teeth to click against each other sloppily. The drummer couldn’t hold back the hum of pleasure that rumbled in his throat and he gripped both of the singer’s shoulders tightly, feeling the sinews and bones underneath hot skin.

“Hey hey, easy there! Stu-boy was mine first,” Murdoc snarled, suddenly annoyed and clearly jealous of how much his partner was enjoying the attention. To accentuate his point, he grabbed a fistful of 2D’s briefs, the last article of clothing covering him, and yanked them off unceremoniously. He smirked at the sight of the singer’s cock, and wasted no time leaning in, wrapping his long, serpentine tongue around it.

2D howled at the sudden assault, body going rigid and hips thrusting upwards. Murdoc continued to smirk, slowly drawing his tongue back into his mouth and going down on the blue-haired man, eyes locking on Russel’s and glowing with challenge.

Russel felt himself drooling. He didn’t know what he wanted more: to be the one eliciting the sudden moans that were flowing uninhibited out of 2D’s mouth, or to be the one on the receiving end of Murdoc’s sinful ministrations. Maybe both.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he breathed, squeezing 2D’s shoulder tight enough to bruise and leaning down to kiss him once more, an action that Murdoc responded to by increasing his own efforts, making obscene slurping noises as he mouthed and sucked 2D’s weeping cock eagerly.

The singer was hardly able to kiss back effectively, so after a few moments of messy kissing, Russel settled for nibbling his way down 2D’s neck.

“Ah…Russ…Muds…”

The pathetic noises 2D was making were having their effect on Russel, and he felt himself straining against the fabric of his jeans before long. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, and he jumped when Murdoc reached out and rubbed the bulge in his jeans appreciatively.

“Oh! Shit…” Russel hissed, attention once again drawn to the bassist, who pulled off 2D with a wet pop and nuzzled his cheek against it instead.

“Feel good?” Murdoc asked innocently, a saccharine smile on his face as precome smeared against his cheek. Russel could swear that he was starting to lose his mind from this show. 

“Don’t stop,” he snarled, his large hand encasing Murdoc’s slender wrist and encouraging him to get back to work.

“Yeah,” 2D took courage to speak up and roll his hips, his cock brushing Murdoc’s lips. “Keep goin’!”

“Both of you are so needy,” the bassist responded crassly, but he obeyed, impossibly long tongue once again wrapping itself around the rosy length before him and hand diving eagerly past the drummer’s jeans and boxers go grip him tightly, skin on skin.

Both men groaned at the waves of pleasure that coursed up their spines at the attention, and Russel felt a few beads of sweat break out on his brow as Murdoc’s skilled hand pumped him slowly a few times, occasionally pausing to map out the feel of his pubic hair and the swell of his balls. He paid special attention to the head as well, thumb coaxing precome out almost instantly, and using this to lube his strokes.

“As much as I’m loving the handie, Muds,” he managed to speak, running his fingers over the bassist’s forearm gently to get his attention, “I’m ready to get down to something a little more. Aren’t you?”

Murdoc pulled back from between 2D’s legs, sitting up more fully and smirking at the whine he got from the singer. “S’pose you’re right, Russ,” he agreed, bringing his hand to his nose and breathing in the scent of Russel before popping his fingers into his mouth thoughtfully, tasting the drummer’s musk on them. “So make yourself useful an’ prep Dents here for me, eh?”

With that, he crawled across the bed and grabbed a small bottle off the bedside table. He tossed the bottle to Russel, who caught it and instantly recognized it as lube. Russel smiled and turned his attention to 2D, who was sitting up for the first time, looking a bit too far gone already. He wasn’t going to last long at all.  
“Is that okay with you?” he asked, needing to be totally clear on the level of consent he was getting from the singer.

2D surprised him with a cocky smirk. “Wot, never prepped a man before?” he asked, spreading his legs and giving Russel a full view of everything he had to offer. The drummer bit the inside of his cheek at the sight of the svelte, ivory body splayed out before him, mile-long legs bent gently at the knees, flushed cock swollen and proud (and damp from Murdoc’s mouth), and below his swollen balls, his rosy entrance, Russel’s for the claiming. Suddenly not sure whether or not he could stop even if he was asked to, Russel found himself clambering forward to run his hands down the creamy, smooth thighs that the singer spread even wider with a gap-toothed grin as he leaned in.

“Wait, Russ,” he giggled. “Ya gotta kiss me again before you can go any further.”

“Good thing you’re cute,” he grumbled playfully before bringing his lips to the singer’s once more. 2D let out a soft gasp, head tilting back slightly in pleasure as their lips slid against one another sensually. His back arched, slim chest brushing against Russel’s. His nipples were pert and he shivered as the drummer pinched them before sliding his hands down his tummy and then over his hips.

“Mm…yeah. Mm~”

Russel closed his eyes, giving into the sounds 2D made as he squeezed a generous dollop of lube into his hands and rubbed them together, warming it up. With a delicate touch, he traced his fingers from 2D’s now-trembling thighs to the tight ring of muscle where his legs met. The singer whimpered but didn’t pull back from the heated snog; he only dug his nails into Russel’s back in wordless encouragement. Holding his own breath, Russel slowly pushed one finger into 2D, only going up to the first knuckle and then pulling out, repeating this action a few times.

“More,” the blue-haired man demanded weakly.

So he began to push deeper, eventually working his entire finger into the singer, then adding a second. 2D twitched and clenched at his touch, but the erotic gasps that poured out of his mouth belied how much he was enjoying himself. By the time he was three fingers deep, Russel knew that he simply had to fuck him soon. Just as he was leaning in to whisper these words to him however, Murdoc startled him by sitting directly behind 2D and licking his ear while his tattooed arms worked their way around the singer’s waist.

“Ah! Murdoc!”

Russel opened his eyes and watched the green-skinned man, curious to see what he had in mind.

“Gotta say, I liked what I felt when I slipped my hand down your trousers, mate,” he informed Russel with a dirty smile. “You’d appreciate it too, I’m sure, Stu. But here’s the thing, Russ is pretty big, even by our usual standards. You may need a little more stretching so it don’t hurt. Why don’t I give you hand there?”

Russel lost track of who Murdoc was talking to and whether or not he had just been complimented for the size of his dick. He lost track because suddenly Murdoc was also squirting a bit of lube over his fingers and tracing lazy circles around 2D’s thighs before pushing a finger into the singer’s entrance. 2D yelped, one hand shooting up to yank Murdoc’s hair harshly.

“Hey! That hurt!”  
“You’ll be thanking me soon, mate,” Murdoc responded dryly, remarkably unfazed by the act of aggression. “Russ is gonna stretch ya soon enough whether you like it or not.”

“Easy,” the drummer warned. He wasn’t interested in hurting his bandmate, and he didn’t want to scare 2D too much. Murdoc only grinned at his warning and brushed his finger against Russel’s inside of the singer. Russel hissed; he’d never done anything like this, and between the sight of his fingers and Murdoc’s disappearing into the shuddering body before him, the feeling of clenching heat around his fingers, and the slick brush of the bassist’s digits against his own, he couldn’t deny how addictive it all was. When Murdoc began to kiss and suck the back of 2D’s neck to further egg him on, he knew he was done for.

“Please,” he begged over 2D’s appreciative whines. “If I’m not inside you soon then I’m gonna lose my mind. ‘D, please. Can I…?”

“Nng….fuck, yeah. Condom?”

“Got it covered,” he answered, reaching into his pocket with his free hand and using fingers and teeth to rip the wrapper open. “How d’ya want it?” he asked, spitting out the empty wrapper and delicately withdrawing his fingers from 2D’s ass to roll the condom on.

“Hands and knees,” Murdoc answered for 2D, also withdrawing his finger from the singer but keeping both hands on his body.

“Fine by me,” the singer consented. “No, Russ, let me.” He batted Russel’s hands away and took the condom, rolling it over his rigid cock with a naughty smile. “Reckon Muds was right. This should be fun.” Russel groaned as the blue-haired man gave him a few strokes with his long slim fingers before pulling back to get onto his hands and knees, as requested. Murdoc caught his face in both hands before he could, and held his gaze meaningfully for a few seconds before leaning in to kiss him. Russel understood; he was allowed to fuck 2D, but it didn’t change the fact that there was a deep emotional bond between the singer and the bassist. He watched them, feeling that simultaneous happiness and jealousy that he’d felt multiple times before upon leaning about the relationship between the two men. 2D also seemed familiar with Murdoc’s possessiveness, and he wordlessly communicated assurance to him in that moment, placing one hand over the bassist’s heart and using the other to cup the back of his head, tilting him further back into the kiss and dominating it for a few moments before breaking it.

Murdoc took the hint and scooted back, giving 2D and Russel plenty of room to find a rhythm. Russel knelt over the singer, who spread his legs nice and wide. He grinned when Russel could only ogle the sight before him for a few silent moments.

“Go ahead, Russ. I can take it;” he teased, wiggling his ass slightly before the drummer.

With a chuckle, Russel obeyed, slathering his cock in lube and guiding it gently to the singer’s hole. Slowly, carefully, he breached 2D, sliding his cock in inch by inch. The hot heat that encased him took his breath away, and for a moment, he stilled, feeling the smaller man tense below him. He wrapped one arm around 2D, rubbing circles over his lower belly to encourage him to relax a bit. After a few moments, he could feel some of the tension ease out of the singer’s shoulders, and he opted to stroke his cock instead of his stomach, earning a shuddery sigh.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Murdod was right…think you’re about the limit of what I can take,” 2D breathed, but his discomfort was rapidly fading between the pressure of Russel’s fingers working his cock and the sensations from the figure-eights that Russel began to make with his hips. Once he had adjusted to the feel completely, he began rocking his own hips forward and back a bit, finding a perfect rhythm. “Ooh, yeah, just like that! Feels good…”

His head dropped after that, and he panted, rocking back into Russel’s slow, deep thrusts. The sound of their heavy breathing was accompanied by the soft slapping of skin on skin, and Russel held the slender man’s body tight, moaning out the occasional swear word as they began to melt into one another.

Once he was sure that 2D was completely comfortable, Murdoc approached the singer, touching his cheek softly and prompting him to lift his head.

“You like the way Russ fucks you, my beautiful bluebird?”

2D responded by arching his back, head and ass lifting and slim body becoming accentuated. “Mmm, yeah!”

“Think you have it in you to help me out too? I want your pretty mouth, luv.”

Russel watched, fascinated by this side of Murdoc, so filled with gentle words and so concerned with making sure 2D was happy and comfortable. He had never seen the bassist in this kind of light, and he was taken with him. He pushed into 2D as far as he could, squeezing his ass. 

“You can help Muds out, can’t you, ‘D?” he asked.

The singer could only moan at the pleasure and the words of the two men responsible for it. Finally, he reached up with one hand, grabbing the flies of Murdoc’s skinny jeans. “Y-yeah. I want you too, Murdoc…please. Let me taste you…”

His shaking fingers clumsily loosened the buttons of Murdoc’s jeans, and as he pulled the zipper down, he realized with a faint smile that his boyfriend had gone commando. He licked his lips, mouth already watering at the prospect of what was to come. Helping the singer out, Murdoc pushed his jeans down around his thighs, freeing his aching cock. Russel realized as the bassist hissed in pleasure as 2D wrapped his fingers around him that it was the first time Murdoc was accepting any pleasure: he had been remarkably restrained so far all night, though the precome that was already beading from the tip of his dick indicated how much he had been restraining himself. The blue-haired man lifted his head and leaned in, guiding Murdoc’s arousal to his lips and suckling the tip lightly. For a fraction of a second, Murdoc’s eyes slipped shut and his face relaxed into a look of bliss. Russel’s fingers twitched, tightening on 2D’s hips slightly at the sight of the bassist giving into ecstasy. But just like that, Murdoc’s eyes were open and sharper than ever; he passed Russel a smug look before carding his fingers through 2D’s soft hair and gently urging him to go further. 

The singer responded eagerly, swallowing down more of Murdoc’s length with a grunt, fingers dancing over his lover’s hips, inner thighs, and balls as his mouth worked. The green-skinned man hissed again, clearly determined not to let any more embarrassing sounds come out of his throat as he took what he desperately needed from 2D.

“Like that, Stu? You like being filled up on both ends? Yer a real slut for dick, ain’t ya?” he growled, earning a whimper of affirmation from the singer.

“You two are both gonna kill me,” Russel groaned, picking up the pace with 2D, smirking as his thrusts made the body beneath him shudder and bounce.

“It’s this sexy fuck’s fault,” Murdoc ground out around a moan as 2D’s tongue traced a vein on his dick. “He’s bloody perfect. Don’t stop, ‘D, oh sweet Satan….” Suddenly he too was moving faster, thrusting his hips a bit into 2D’s mouth to encourage him to go deeper. Locking eyes, bassist and drummer found a tempo of moving both of their hips, Murdoc sliding deeper into 2D’s mouth as Russel pulled out of the singer’s ass, the Russel slamming home as Murdoc pulled out to watch his lover’s face contort in pleasure from the thrusts. 2D was helpless to do anything but lean into the touches he was receiving, obeying the silent commands and enjoying the double assault. He whined deep in his throat, body breaking out in goosebumps as the pleasure began to overwhelm him. Russel had found his sweet spot and was slamming home each time he ground into him, sending white stars shooting before the singer’s vision. Murdoc was conscientious about giving pleasure as well, and even as his hips moved faster and he thrust into his lover’s mouth with animalistic vigor, his fingers skimmed 2D’s neck, tickling the sensitive flesh and keeping him grounded.

The vocalist let out a particularly throaty moan and Murdoc’s eyes snapped open, his finger’s sliding up to touch 2D’s cheeks, prompting the blue-haired man to open his eyes as well.

“You’re close then, mate?” He smiled lecherously. “Go ahead then. Come for me, Stu. All over the sheets. Come on my little bluebir—”

Before the bassist could even get his dirty talk out, 2D reached his climax, molten pleasure shooting throughout his body and turning his mind to static. He pulled off of Murdoc to let out a scream as his hips juttered and shook. Russel groaned at the feeling of tension that coursed through the body beneath him, and he reached around to touch the singer through his orgasm, stroking his dick as he came, soiling the sheets below him.

“God, ‘D,” he hissed as the vocalist clenched impossibly tight around him, and he felt himself falling over the edge as well. Grabbing 2D’s hips with both hands, he slammed into him with abandon one, two, three more times as the bliss of climax blurred his vision. After that, he felt his body dissolving into goo, and he gently, gently slipped out of 2D’s body, collapsing beside him.

2D’s arms and legs gave out, and he sank down onto the bed, panting and whimpering, reaching out blindly to pull Russel against him. The larger man ran a hand through sweaty blue hair, smiling as oxygen began to return to his brain and he was able to think clearly once again as endorphins continued to flow through him.

The singer returned his satisfied grin, but then turned back to Murdoc, who knelt before him, still stiff and aching, though looking quite pleased with the mess before him.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he drawled. “Just enjoying the view. You can finish when you’ve got your breath back, luv.”

“No,” 2D stated after a moment’s thought. Both companions looked at him in surprise.

“You two haven’t kissed yet. Muds, Russ, you have to kiss to make the cycle complete.”

“What cycle?” Murdoc asked, looking both nervous and embarrassed at the same time. Starting to get just a bit of his energy back, Russel was less hesitant.

“You heard him,” he stated coolly, moving in towards the bassist and wrapping an arm around the small of his back, pulling him in close. “Let me kiss you.”

Murdoc responded with nervous tension, muscles clenching tightly in his back and shoulders. Russel took the apprehension in, cataloguing it in the back of his mind as his other hand cupped the man’s jaw and tilted his face up. Slowly, he leaned in and met no resistance, kissing Murdoc gently.

His smooth lips pressed against day-old stubble and he moaned softly at the unambiguously masculine feel that was somehow more intense than kissing 2D. Murdoc began to relax into the touch, and his hands rose up, long nails settling on and digging into the flesh along the back of Russel’s shoulders. As he had done with the singer, Russel ran the tip of his tongue over Murdoc’s lips, and gasped as Murdoc responded by wrapping his long tongue around Russel’s own in a feeling that was sinfully pleasurable. The bassist sensed how much the drummer was enjoying his ministrations, and he leaned in closer, nails beginning to run up and down Russel’s spine with feather-light touches that made him shiver.

Dropping his hand from the bassist’s jaw, Russel wrapped his fingers around Murdoc’s length and began to stroke him, not very surprised when Murdoc instantly began shuddering, almost there. With a few rough strokes, thick ropes of release were spilling onto both men’s thighs as they continued their heated snog. Murdoc’s climax was much more muted than 2D’s had been; he grunted and gasped against the drummer’s lips, but didn’t cry out, even as his jaw slackened. Slinking back against the headboard of the bed, Murdoc smiled and finally let out a worn-out chuckle.

“That. Was fucking hot as hell.”

Having recovered at lightening speed, 2D sat up and grabbed a pack of cigarettes off of the bedside table, lighting three and handing one to each bandmate before popping the last one between his lips. “I’ll say. Can’t believe we didn’t do it sooner!”

“I haven’t felt that good in a long time,” Russel admitted, inhaling the bitter smoke and leaning back against a pile of pillows.

“We should invite you between the sheets more often,” Murdoc said, and Russel couldn’t be sure whether he was joking or not.

2D rested an arm on Russel’s knee and stretched his long legs out so they intertwined with Murdoc’s, humming happily at the contact. The three continued to smoke and bask in the afterglow for a bit longer, but as Russel put his cigarette out in the ashtray balanced precariously atop a pile of books, magazines, and phone chargers, he realized that if there was a tactful time to clear out, this was it. 

“I should uh, probably get going now.” He stated, annoyed at how disappointed and awkward his voice sounded. Both men looked at him, surprised.

“Are you tired already? We only did it once!” 2D cried indignantly.

“Yeah, this kid’s good for at least four rounds. What happened to going all night?” Murdoc asked, sounding offended.

“And even if you’re done for the night, Russ, we want you to stay the night. You’re our mate, after all.”

“Yeah, what my songbird says. Don’t pussy out now; we don’t bite. Much.”

Wide, black eyes, imploring him to stay. A flash of sharp teeth within a dangerous yet inviting smile. Russel looked at both of his friends and realized suddenly that he wasn’t as much of a third wheel as he had been building himself up to be.

“You…really don’t mind if I stay?”

“’s long as ya suck my dick before you fall asleep, we’re good,” Murdoc answered cheerful and once again in an ambiguously playful tone.

“Well then…” Russel tried to fight the giddiness that was bubbling up from his chest and willing the silliest of smiles onto his face. “Who’s ready for round two then?”


	4. Acquiesce

It was just over a week later that Russel found himself slipping once again through the door and into 2D’s room, this time much more relaxed.

Just like the previous time, his bandmates were waiting expectantly, pausing mid-snog to shoot him twin smirks.

“Noodle’s asleep then?” 2D asked.

“Tucked in, out cold, drooling slightly on her pillow.”

“Okay no need to get technical, Russ, we ain’t getting’ off to that.”

“Fuck you, Muds.”

“Oh, that’s the point,” the bassist answered cheekily, urging Russel to join them on the bed and wasting no time pulling him down into a searing kiss. The drummer moaned, feeling his body start to burn instantly and winding his arms around Murdoc’s trim waist. Murdoc quickly tired of fucking Russel’s mouth with his long tongue and tilted his head, slowly making his way down his jaw and neck, sucking and nipping at the skin there, lips curving into a smirk when this made Russel’s breath hitch.

“Hmm…since when do you wear cologne, mate?” He mumbled, tone gravely against the raised goosebumps on the drummer’s throat.

“W-what? I can’t get a little dolled up for you two?”

“Oh, I rather like it. Smells expensive,” Murdoc confessed, drawing back and running his right hand up Russel’s chest slowly. “I like the thought of you primping just so we can fuck you senseless.” With that, he shoved Russel down onto the bed. By day, Murdoc was incapable of moving the drummer, and seldom had the nerve to try. But when the moon was out and Kong was quiet, the tables were turned. The drummer gasped as his back hit the mattress and suddenly Murdoc was lying on top of him, kissing his mouth again as his hands slid under the drummer’s shirt, long nails teasing the skin there.

“Alright, alright, give me a chance to say hi to Russel too,” 2D complained suddenly. Russel was slightly embarrassed to admit that he had nearly forgotten about the singer; Murdoc’s advances were that hypnotic.

“Sorry, D,” he said, shifting away from Murdoc’s aggressive kisses and holding the bassist away from him by the shoulders. “C’mere.”

For a moment, 2D simply looked down at him, annoyed, but the look melted into a smug expression before he smiled dopily and dropped down to deliver a much gentler, softer kiss to his friend’s lips.

It was a dizzying experience for the drummer, having the two jockeying over who got to kiss him more. Russel couldn’t remember the last time that he had felt so wanted, so flattered. While there were plenty of groupies on tours who were more than eager to tease and pleasure him, this somehow felt different. 2D and Murdoc weren’t star-struck Gorillaz fans, dying to get into his pants because he was their hero. Most of their days were spent arguing over what key a song sounded best in, what guest artist should help cover what song, and how to properly deliver “the talk” to the thirteen-year-old Noodle. Most days, Russel found himself struggling not to kick Murdoc’s ass, and he knew the feeling was mutual. And while he generally got along better with 2D, the singer was also prone to having his days, and grew moody and sulky with Russel often.

This kissing, this passion, it wasn’t the result of any perceptions of perfection, but rather in spite of the knowledge that they were all flawed beings. They were prone to spats and fights, yes, and yet 2D and Murdoc latched onto him with enthusiasm. Russel’s white eyes opened wide as that realization struck him, and he braced himself on one arm, pushing himself up. Pressing tender kisses to each friend’s jaws, he smirked.

“So, how do you two want it tonight?”

Murdoc’s hand found the drummer’s thigh and squeezed, working its way up to the junction of his legs, where signs of his excitement were already evident. “I was thinking I’d make good on something you exprrrressed interest in last time,” he growled low, smiling as 2D pulled him over and nibbled his neck.

“Last time?” Russel tried to think of specific things he had asked for; it was all a blur of kisses and limbs and 2D’s delicate body arching and writhing beneath his, and later of his head between 2D’s legs, making the singer whine and scream. With all the touches and gasps, it was hard to remember what ideas had been coming out of his mouth.

“S-sure, mate,” Murdoc pressed, trying to continue to sound seductive and in control although his voice wavered as 2D’s kissing turned to sloppy sucking. “I believe you—ahh, that’s nice, babe—believe you said you wanted to experience the joys of my mouth.”

Russel felt heat flood his cheeks at the memory of Murdoc’s mouth on 2D’s cock, that long tongue that wrapped around and twisted. Grabbing the bassist by the jaw, he pressed two fingers to his lips eagerly.

“Suck,” he ordered.

Murdoc’s mismatched eyes met his, wide and for just a moment, vulnerable with something almost fearful in them. In the next instant, his eyes lowered in a show of submission and he took the digits into his mouth with a soft moan, sucking them in and pulling his lips tight. The drummer groaned in appreciation at the warm, wet sensation. 2D smiled at Russel and resumed his attack on the bassist’s neck, hands slipping under his shirt to pinch his nipples. The drummer reached down to rub himself through his jeans, then began unbuckling his belt, impatient to put Murdoc’s talented mouth to better use. They continued like that for a few more moments, Russel slowly ridding himself of his belt and jeans while his fingers worked in and out of the bassist’s mouth until saliva ran messily down his chin. 2D hummed approvingly, sucking and nibbling a collar of hickeys onto his lover’s neck while his lithe fingers twisted and pinched his nipples, making him whimper and arch.

“You look ready,” the singer finally spoke up, watching as Russel’s hand began to move more quickly over his clothed erection. “Want to move things along?”

Yeah,” he agreed, retracting his fingers from Murdoc and lying back on the bed.

The bassist started to follow after Russel, but 2D held him back, coy smile on his lips. “Wait, luv. Too many clothes on both of you,” he explained, tugging the hem of Murdoc’s shirt and pulling it over his head. “Arms. Good.” With Murdoc chuckling softly in amusement, he managed to rid the bassist of his shirt. They both turned to the drummer, eyes glinting in the dim light, Murdoc’s signature upside-down cross a contrast of bright gold against his sallow skin and black tattoos.

“You too, Rrrrussel,” Murdoc ordered, reaching down to yank his shirt off unceremoniously.

“Okay, okay, easy,” he laughed, finding that Murdoc’s impatient nature, while infuriating outside of the bedroom, was actually quite endearing during intimacy. Though the bassist was more of a hindrance than a help, he successfully got his shirt off. Grinning and crossing his arms behind his head, Russel made himself comfortable, eyeing them both.

“Don’t forget about ‘D,” he advised.

“Oh, of course. Gotta see my luscious little bluebird as well,” Murdoc purred, grabbing 2D and making the singer gasp. He yanked the shirt off of the lanky man, 2D’s arms going up awkwardly and clumsily, instantly vining around Murdoc once the shirt was off to give him one last, wet kiss. They both turned back to the drummer, lips swollen and shining with saliva.

With a playful tackle, Murdoc turned his attention back to Russel, diving on top of him and sucking a big hickey onto his collarbone before kissing down his chest and soft, round stomach. Russel sighed in appreciation and smiled as 2D crawled up the bed to lie beside him, watching the bassist.

“You just wanna watch, ‘D?”

He received a nod in confirmation. “Sometimes I just like watchin’ what Muds can do. I wanna see him work his magic for you.”

By now, the older man had made his way down to Russel’s pubic hair. He inhaled deeply and dragged his face lower, moist lips rubbing just barely over his cock. The drummer bit his lip in anticipation, but didn’t urge Murdoc on; he wanted this pleasure to last. Murdoc seemed to appreciate the casual pace as well, and he softly kissed up the length in front of him before lowering his head and tracing a prominent vein with his tongue. Russel’s jaw slackened a bit as Murdoc finally took him fully into his mouth, and began to bob his head at an agonizingly slow pace. 2D shifted beside the drummer, running a pale hand up and down the curve of his bicep and kissing his cheek repeatedly, keeping him grounded as the bassist alternated between sucking and teasing with his tongue. 

Russel had never felt anything like this in his life: Murdoc’s tongue was sinful. He flicked it, dragged it, twisted and twirled it, exploring Russel and finding what he liked best. He was especially fond of showing off the length of that tongue, literally wrapping it around Russel and squeezing slightly. Russel could only throw his head back against the pillows and vocalize his appreciation as the assault continued. After a few minutes, Murdoc changed technique, focusing instead on the plush skin of the drummer’s thighs and leaving a scattering of hickeys there. He traced the tip of his tongue over a few stretch marks, sighing softly to indicate how much he was savoring every inch of flesh. This was body worship like Russel had never experienced, and he didn’t hold back from letting both men hear just how much he enjoyed it, being treated like some sort of treat to be savored and adored.

It was a bit of a surprise when Murdoc kissed wetly over his sac, then his perineum. But he didn’t fight it when he felt a short lick over his entrance. Well, if Murdoc wanted to play that game, who was he to resist?

“Ever get eaten out, mate?”

“That’s hardly an appropriate question for the second date, Niccals.”

“If you want me to stop, I wi—”

Murdoc’s sentence was cut off when Russel bent one knee, pushing Murdoc face-first into his groin. Beside him, 2D tittered.

“Russ’s already found the best way to shut you up, Muds.”

“Har, har, har,” the bassist replied, pretending to be annoyed although he fell to the task quite readily, sucking Russel’s tight entrance and then slipping his tongue in.

Russel had already found out just how dexterous the older man’s south was, but he was reminded once again of just how long it was too when Murdoc held nothing back, pushing in deep, so fucking deep, that his toes curled.

“Oh, shit!”

“And Murdoc’s found the best way to shut you up too, Russ. This is fun,” 2D continued to give cheery commentary as he began to stroke himself leisurely, watching his boyfriend eat out his bandmate’s ass.

Russel only snorted, suddenly not in the mood for conversation any longer. He threw his head back and let the gasps and moans flow, uninhibited, as Murdoc sucked, lapped, and stroked, experimenting to find out all the ways he could drive him crazy. Occasionally he would pull back to jerk the drummer off, sometimes he’d simply force his ass cheeks apart wide and mouth his perineum. Murdoc seemed eager to try everything at least once, in no rush to get Russel off and clearly much more interested in gauging the different noises he could get out of the normally-quiet drummer.

This kind of intimacy was so natural, so relaxed, and Russel gripped the sheets around him tight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been reduced to a mess this effortlessly, legs kicking uselessly, occasionally hooking around Murdoc’s lower back and pushing him in closer, muscles twitching, lips trembling. But to vocalize that to the other two would be making things weird. They weren’t here to talk about their feelings, just to enjoy one another.

Though damn. If 2D was treated to this kind of physical indulgence whenever he wanted, he was a lucky man. 

And speaking of 2D…

Russel tilted his head just as Murdoc returned from rimming him, opting instead to suck his dick for a while. 2D caught his stare and immediately cupped Russel’s cheek in the hand that was not around his own dick.

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah…oh, shit, Muds!”

“Really? Sure you’re okay?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re having a good time too,” Russel said as his hips began to jerk up into the wet heat of Murdoc’s throat. “Sorry for staring.”

“Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” 2D answered cheerfully. “Watching the two of you is…it’s really doing it for me.” He winked and began to stroke himself a little faster, voice getting just a bit breathier. “So go ahead: stare at me.”

“Really, do it,” Murdoc added, breath ghosting over his balls. “Stare at him. Watch him touch his pretty little dick.”

Russel groaned and watched the singer’s hand move over his own himself in fascination; the singer knew how handsome he was, and he smirked a bit as Russel’s eyes fell on his pumping hand and stayed glued there.

Between the feeling of Murdoc’s throat once again constricting around him, the sight of 2D stroking himself furiously and moaning and—oh god, fuck—Murdoc’s fingers slipping into his slick hole, he knew it was over.

“Mm…oh fuck, fuck fuck!”

Orgasm swept over him, sending colors shooting before his eyes as his hips shook frantically. Murdoc moaned at the feeling of his release, continuing to suck him off gently but pulling back as soon as Russel’s shaking stopped, mindful of his oversensitive state. Russel sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, taking a few breaths to compose himself as Murdoc retracted his fingers and sat up to assess the damage, eagerly swallowing with a wicked grin.

“I like how you taste, Russ.”

“Ohmygod shut up,” he grumbled, reaching up to rub his eyes. The compliment was appreciated, but he needed a moment to get himself together before he would be lucid enough to banter with the bassist again.

“He won’t shut up,” 2D said. “He’s a little freak about tasting his lovers. He isn’t just saying that to tease you.”

The singer hadn’t come yet, and Murdoc crawled up the bed, pushing his hand off his dick and kissing him hungrily. The younger man fell back eagerly, allowing Murdoc to pin him down on the bed, both of them moaning and rutting against one another. Russel watched with glazed eyes, turned on but too tired to do much of anything about it. 

The way 2D’s fingers danced up and down Murdoc’s back, pale against dark olive skin, was entrancing. So was the motion of their hips as their cocks rubbed together and they moaned with pleasure.

It was a nice change of pace from the previous time they had all hooked up, eager to penetrate and fuck hard and frankly, to reenact the over-the-top, porn-like moves that all celebrities were supposed to know. This was different, just watching two lovers roll around and kiss, touching each other tenderly. They weren’t being showy: they were making love. Yet again the drummer realized just how much the relationship dynamic between Murdoc and 2D had changed, and how good a fit they seemed for each other when they weren’t on camera, being interviewed, or on stage.

Unable to keep entirely to himself, Russel reached out, fingers grazing Murdoc’s shoulder. The bassist looked up and met the fond smile on the drummer’s lips, then leaned in to kiss him.

“Hey! Me too!” 2D demanded, no longer content to just watch. Chuckling, Murdoc sat back so the younger man could roll onto his side and kiss Russel as well. Both 2D and then Murdoc finished like that, grinding together while exchanging kisses with the other two. 

As they flopped onto the mattress to join Russel’s prone form, they reached instinctively for cigarettes. Though he seldom smoked anymore, Russel took one when it was offered, if only to be polite.

“Hope you weren’t disappointed by my head-game, mate,” Murdoc rumbled around his Lucky Lung, folding one arm behind his head languidly. 2D instinctively rolled into the space created once his arm was above his head, cheek resting right above the bassist’s armpit.

“Nah, Muds. That was great. You’re both wild. In a good way.”

“We really like having you with us, Russel,” 2D said, gray smoke sliding out his lips and over his boyfriend’s chest. “You’re a lot of fun. And always so respectful too, even in the heat of the moment. You’ll be joining us again after tonight, right?”

“I mean, I was kind of hoping to at some point,” Russel answered. Shit. Did that make him sound desperate? “I mean, I just figured if you wanted to do it again after the first time, then maybe we would be doing this a little more often? Let it run its course?”

“I like the sound of that, yeah, ‘run its course.’” The bassist said.

“Yeah. And like eventually if we get tired of this, we’ll mutually agree to call it quits.”

“Sure. No strings attached. That was the deal me’n’Muds offered you. But as long as you’re still having fun with this, we’re really enjoying fuckin’ around with you,” he said around a cocky grin.

“Sounds good to me,” Russel agreed. “And hey…thanks for uh…for inviting me to join you two in the first place. It was really flattering.”

“Russel, I just had your nob in my mouth, there’s no need to be modest. Of course we asked you to join us, you’re bloody sexy.”

“Thanks, Muds. You’re pretty cute yourself.”

“Cute? What’s that supposed to mean, lard-ass?”

“Easy, Muds, he’s only teasing.”

“Oh not yet, D. I’ll show you what it looks like when I tease Murdoc…” And with that, he stubbed his cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned in to kiss the bassist, earning first a surprised gasp, and then a low growl of pleasure in response.


	5. Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Russel has an idea and Murdoc is a handy-man. Noodle's there too. Not much sexiness this chapter, sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen quite a few fics and headcanons suggesting that Murdoc is probably the home-improvement member of the household, good at fixing things. Wanted to incorporate that into this fic. I apologize for the lack of smut, but wanted to focus on character development. Please let me know if there's anything in particular you'd like to see in oncoming chapters. As always, I'm open to suggestions!

“You’re whistling.”

“What’s up, Noodle?”

Russel looked up from buttering his toast to meet the eyes of the young teen across from him. Well, it was hard to make out her eyes under the crazy mop of hair she was growing out. But he tried.

“You’re whistling,” she repeated. “Bob Marley.”

“Sorry,” he said, setting his toast down and passing the jam over to her so she could make her own breakfast. “I didn’t know you don’t like him.”

“I do, I’m just surprised. You’ve been very…quiet. Since we got back together. Very…to yourself. It’s nice to see you whistling and looking happy. Do you feel things are finally getting easier?”

Her question was innocuous, but she managed to ask it with a maturity beyond her years. She seemed to understand better than anyone just how much he had been traumatized when the Grim Reaper took Del away from him. Perhaps because she had been good friends with Del when he was still an impish spirit, continuing to haunt Russel from beyond the grave. 

When she had learned of his loss after the band’s hiatus, she alone had known that Russel was battling with depression and paranoia like never before. She too had mourned, really mourned, Del’s loss. And since then, she had treated Russel delicately, handling him from afar in a way that hurt a bit, although of course that wasn’t her intention. 

Noodle too had spent a lot of time alone, finding herself, and while it was great that she could now speak fluent English, it killed him to know that she had learned such scary origins of her martial arts abilities and been reintroduced to her terrifying past.

In general, Noodle was entering her teens with a caution she had never showed as a child. A few years had made her suspicious and introspective, and Russel was too caught up in his own thoughts to properly reach out and care for her as he had done so naturally when he’d first met her, when she was a naïve wrecking ball always looking for trouble, and he was confident and spooky, voice crowded with the constant thrum of spirits.

So by asking if things were getting easier, he knew exactly how she meant the question.

“I’m still taking things on a day-by-day basis, Noods.”

“That is the best way to take life, Russel. Still, you seem a bit more engaged recently. I have noticed you out of your room more often, and listening to more music again. It makes me happy to witness.”

“Thanks, babygirl.” Best not to mention that he’d been walking out of his room and straight into 2D’s. “Yeah, I’ve been dreaming less about…you know.”

“Good. I have missed you.”

He swallowed a mouthful of toast and looked closely at her face. “Noodle…if you ever need anything from me, I hope you know all you need to do is ask. I’m always there for you, you know that. Right?”

“Of course! I just have not wanted to bother you,” she faltered, looked down. She had never broken eye contact during conversations in the early days. “You’ve had a lot on your mind and have kept to yourself. But you seem to be opening up again, and I am grateful. Perhaps recording music is finally starting to help you?”

Unfortunately, Noodle’s insight was only half right. Recording music again was cathartic. Absolutely. Music had always been one of the only things that made sense to Russel, no matter how fragile his state of mind. Something about coming together with the other three, hearing their takes on what they wanted to put into their sound, seeing their passion and their drive to communicate their hopes to help change the world: it invigorated him. It had been such a huge source of joy for Del, and it made him happy too. 

All he needed was that haunting voice of 2D’s, Noodle’s thoughtful melodies and lyrics, and a hypnotic drone from Murdoc’s bass, and he could feel pieces of his soul healing.

His hands would automatically reach for his drumsticks, or perhaps for the turntables, and something amazing would come out of them. Although they were all damaged, chaotic people, their recording rooms were sacred ground, their finished pieces, gospels.

But music wasn’t the only thing that was reinforcing Russel’s frayed self-confidence. And it would be damn difficult to explain to this young teen that part of the reason he was feeling a little better lately was because their other two bandmates were giving him some of the best orgasms of his life.

Instead he grinned. Let Noodle feel reassured. She deserved all the peace of mind she could get after what she’d been through.

“I’m having a great time recording your album, Noods. It’s amazing, just like you.”

“Russ-sel,” she sighed; a slight teenage attitude was something he wasn’t quite used to yet, but it was a bit funny. “Do not placate me. I want your unadulterated feedback. Do not convolute the album’s worth with how you value me; they are separate entities.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he amended, rising and carrying his plate over to the sink and chuckling. She was so devoted to the progression of her sound, and he was still getting used to her speaking so fluently, not mixing tenses and garbling half-English and mostly-Japanese phrases. A little girl demanded not to be placated was classic Noodle. “More toast? I could make you scrambled cheesey eggs if you want.”

“Ooh, that sounds delicious!” A voice that was very much not Noodle’s said.

Russel shook his head and turned to face 2D, who was disheveled in a grubby tee-shirt and a pair of boxers. His hair looked like a bird’s nest, and he was already scratching his ass. Ever the charmer.

Yet he couldn’t deny a tenderness that throbbed in his heart at the sight of the singer so sleepy and vulnerable. After all, he’d kissed that mouth at dawn on more than one occasion.

Fighting the urge to ask where Murdoc was, Russel instead reached for the skillet they kept under the stove.

“The offer was for Noodle, not you. But fine. I’ll make you breakfast if you pull a comb through that mess you call hair and maybe put some pants on.”

“But I just woke up!”

“It is almost lunchtime, Toochi.”

“Aw, that’s not the point, luv. If Murdoc can run around in his crusty briefs or starkers under that cape, I should be able to get breakfast without having to go back downstairs to get changed!”

Noodle’s response was a giggle and Russel tried to keep looking annoyed, although 2D made it difficult. It was hard not to make a comment about how 2D didn’t seem to mind Murdoc’s exhibitionism all that much, and frankly, neither did he. Instead, he just grabbed some eggs from of the fridge and cracked them into a bowl, looking around for a clean fork he could use to whisk them.

“Fine man, but at least stop scratching yourself in front of Noodle.”

“Ew!”

“Oi Russ! She wasn’t even looking! Thanks a lot.”

At least when Russel made breakfast for Noodle, she usually helped with dishes; rinsed them a bit at bear minimum. 2D was spoiled and wouldn’t help at all, leaving crumb and egg-coated plates piled up on the sink before skulking off to smoke, watch movies, and look for fun. But the drummer couldn’t fault him too much. It was becoming hard to do that these days. 

Succumbing to the lack of clean utensils, he turned on the sink and began cleaning a few forks and knives to use to prepare the singer’s breakfast. The kitchen was poorly lit like the rest of Kong, but he realized as he lifted his head and gazed around while scrubbing was because the only window in the room was boarded up, presumably due to cracked glass that no one had ever bothered to fix properly.

“Hey…you two think it would look nice in here if we actually opened that window up?” he asked, motioning to it with a soapy knife.

“It’s been like that since Murdoc got this dump,” 2D responded, fishing around in the pantry for his favorite brand of tea.

“The window faces west, Russel, so it would not bring much light into the room. Still, it would not be quite as dark. Why? Does the dim lighting hurt your eyes?”

“No, babygirl, my eyes don’t hurt. It just…seems like a shame that it’s always so dark in here. Messes with the mood, y’know? If we had some natural light in here, it’d create a kinda…what’s that Japanese word? About arranging furniture a certain way?”

“Feng shui is Chinese, not Japanese.”

“But you know what I’m saying? It’d create a climate that would…open the place up more, make it brighter, airier…happier.” He turned to see whether or not his point had come across well to the others, only to find them both staring at him thoughtfully. Slowly, Noodle’s face broke out into a wide grin.

“Stupid idea?” he asked, turning back to the stove quickly and lighting it. 

“No…quite the contrary,” she answered. “I am thrilled to see you so passionate about changing the appearance of Kong, and invigorating yourself. I know a lot of other customs to help purify atmospheres as well. I’ll go get some incense!” 

She hopped up eagerly and headed towards her room, leaving him alone with 2D.

“Didn’t think she’d like my idea that much,” Russel muttered, more to himself than 2D. 

“I think she’s happy to see you acting so…healthy, Russ. I bet Muds can fix up that window; he’s handy with stuff like that. I’ll go get him!”

“Don’t bother, he’ll be in a piss-poor mood if you wake him up early.”

“Not if you know how to wake him up right,” the taller man answered with a wink. Russel turned his his eyes to the skillet before him so 2D wouldn’t see how his breath hitched a bit at the image that came to mind when the young man spoke so suggestively.

Only a few nights before, 2D and Murdoc had treated him to a double blow-job, battling over his dick, kissing each other sloppily around it, and repeatedly looking up to him for approval. 2D had moaned needily the whole time, stroking his aching cock and even fingering himself as he lapped at the base of Russel’s thick cock, tracing veins with his tongue. Murdoc was more reserved as usual, ignoring his own arousal in favor of touching Russel, groping his ass and fondling his balls as he deep-throated him between twisting licks with his long tongue and dirty kisses to the singer’s wet mouth.

At their urging, Russel had come embarrassingly fast all over their faces, both of them beaming up at him with adoration as he dirtied them.

The heat of the moment was lost when they turned to look at one another and burst into peals of laughter at the sight of their messy faces. The playfulness of the moment was even better than the preceding sexiness, and the drummer had joined in the laughing. He never felt awkward around them anymore inside or outside the bedroom, which was a blessing, he supposed, given that Noodle was beginning to engage with them a little more, sensing his own psychological recuperation. The last thing he needed was awkwardness, especially not something she might start to notice and question.

He turned to ask what kind of cheese 2D wanted in his eggs, but realized the man had already gone, making good on his promise to rouse Murdoc. Sheesh. He made one silly suggestion and here everyone was, making a game plan out of a stupid idea to lighten up the room a bit.

Noodle was the first to return, bearing both healing crystals, something Russel had never heard of, and several types of incense. It took a bit of coaxing to explain to the teen that although her intensions were kind, it was probably not a good plan to mix the smells of incense with the myriad smells that already came out of the kitchen, but they would make a great addition to the living room, foyer, and any other place Noodle would like to light some. 

She let him sample several scents to keep in his room, and he agreed to try the cedarwood and hinoki as well as the nag champa. He also agreed to get some plants, like spider-plants and succulents such as aloe, at her suggestion. 

She moved on to expounding upon the benefits, physical, mental, and spiritual, of healing crystals. As she spoke, he finished making 2D’s breakfast and set the eggs down on a plate by where he had been sitting. Too excited in her explanation to perceive the confusion on his face over how rocks could improve mood, she was just delving into the difference between rose quartz and amethyst crystals when 2D returned with a sleepy-eyed Murdoc, already grousing about being awoken so early.

“And anyway, why’s this have to be taken care of at the crack of dawn, eh?”

“Muds,” 2D pressed with a smile, “I think this would make Russel real happy, and that’s why I think you should do it. See, Noodle agrees with me!”

“Will you please help us, Murdoc?” she asked, offering him a crystal (which he took, sniffed, and handed back to her). Even Murdoc had a hard time being truly grouchy around Noodle.

Rubbing his eyes dramatically, he staggered over to the window, grabbing an old bottle of whiskey off the counter on his way over. Taking a long slug from the bottle with one hand, he ripped away the thin plank of wood covering the window with his other hand with a surprising yet casual show of strength.

Sure enough, underneath the wood, the window pane was cracked and a cool breeze instantly blew into the room. Goosebumps jumped out on 2D’s arms; the man had no body fat and with his current state of dress, he was quick to step away from the draft and reaching for the kettle to make a warm cup of tea.

“You want me to replace this?” Murdoc asked gruffly. 

“Look,” Russel was beginning to feel like the orchestrator in a very complex joke he’d never even wanted to make. “I just suggested we might have a little more light in the room if we replaced the window. I never meant to wake you up or make such fuss over the mess.”

“Well why did you bring it up in the first place, then?” the bassist asked, turning to him and taking another long drink from his whiskey.

The younger man shrugged in defeat. “I don’t know, man. I guess I just thought it’d brighten up the kitchen. Make it more home-like and cheerful. It was a stupid flight of fancy, all right? Shouldn’t have been thinking out loud. You can go back to sleep if you want, clearly it was a dumb idea.”

Murdoc continued to stare at him thoughtfully for a bit longer, then glanced at 2D. Finally, he set the drink down, and stepped back to the window, glancing it over before setting the wood back in front of it to keep the draft out.

“The frame’s been warped from years of wind and rain,” he stated with a sniff. “I’ll need to hammer the frame back into place. Should probably pick up some insulation and caulk as well just to be on the safe side. Then I’ll just take the measurements and go buy a pane of glass. Can have it looking cozy as Martha Stewart’s place before dinner, how’s that, Russ?”

The drummer arched a brow in disbelief. “You serious?”

“If you make me breakfast, we’ll have a deal, how’s that? Those eggs look bloody fab.” He set the whiskey down and walked over to the table, leaning close to inhale the scent of 2D’s breakfast. “Now this is something worth waking up for! You have any hot sauce? And maybe some beans too?”

“Those are for 2D,” Russel responded, at a loss. Not in a million years would he have predicted Murdoc so willingly putting effort into something for him. “But yeah, I’ll cook for you. Hey…thanks.”

Murdoc took a seat at the table, scratching one leg with his long toenails. “Don’t mention it, Russ.”

2D joined the bassist, and although she had eaten already, Noodle also took a seat at the table as the drummer got back to work, making a big, proper breakfast for them all to share.

After breakfast and a smoke break, Murdoc willingly put pants on and headed out to the hardware store, 2D in tow. Russel floated about the house, listening in disbelief as the bassist hammered away for several hours, kept the cursing to a minimum, and eventually came looking for Russel so he could show off his handiwork.

The rest of the kitchen was still a mess, but it was noticeably brighter than before, and the brand new window pane shone proudly, adding a new dimension to the room.

It was so remarkable, and Murdoc’s work in such need of praise, that Russel proposed celebrating by having a proper family dinner that night. He cooked with very little help, naturally (well, Noodle tried to help a bit, but kept getting distracted wanting to play 2D’s banjo, which he had whipped out in all the festivity). Nonetheless, he was proud of the nice, home-cooked meal that he served that evening, just as night began to fall, necessitating the artificial lights to be turned on once again anyway.

There was no longer any natural light coming into the room, but it still felt more like a home than ever as Russel sat down, passing plates to his three bandmates, aware that for the first time in a long time, things felt right.


	6. Resolution

Being the third wheel of a three-way wasn’t all blowjobs and glamor. Russel was aware of that as he lay on his back far too early in the morning, still tired from a late night with 2D and Murdoc, but unable to get back to sleep. 

It wasn’t Murdoc’s light snoring that was keeping him awake; he was fairly used to that by now. Nor was it the drool currently leaking out of the corner of 2D’s mouth and soaking the arm of his tee-shirt. It was the fact that both men were wedged so tightly against either side of him that there was no way to move without waking them both up. And he really wanted to roll onto his side. Was it rude to forsake both of their restful sleeping to shift around? Murdoc tended to grouse when awoken too early for his liking, and the energy he expended bitching about being awoken would further wake him up, making it less likely that he’d just roll over and go back to sleep. 2D was the opposite; the man hated being woken up, but he could at least fall back asleep readily, looking absolutely dead to the world beneath a veritable nest of blue bedhead.

For a while, Russel occupied himself by looking around the room, familiarizing himself with all of 2D’s belongings. But it was hard to make out a great deal of the objects since dirty clothes were strewn over most of the floor and nearly every available surface. Underneath them, he spied paperback books scattered around, too far away to make out the names of the authors, although he recognized some of the covers. 2D usually had a few books stashed away when they went out on photo-shoots, interviews, tours, and the like. There were also a disconcerting number of takeaway boxes in various states of completion, and equipment 2D occasionally tinkered with to fix the keyboards that sometimes broke down (whether from use, or from a certain drunken bassist stumbling over them after a bender). The room was a pigsty, but it didn’t smell at least, and it was becoming a comfort to retreat to this room for a little romp with his two unbelievably sexy companions.

Nonetheless, he was seriously uncomfortable on his back and he wanted to move. For lack of anything else to do, he shifted his legs a bit, bending them to the left and brushing them against Murdoc’s legs slightly. The bassist was always a bit jumpy in his sleep, and at the feeling of something moving against him, he kicked out, his jagged toenails catching Russel’s shin and scraping.

“Oww!” The drummer hissed, kicking Murdoc in annoyance.

“Oi,” Murdoc cracked one eye open, scowling. “Tryin’ to sleep here, lardass.”

“Pretty sure I’m bleeding because of your stupid talons, asshole. Cut your damn nails!”

“Don’t mess with me in my sleep, and we won’t have a problem now, will we? Stay on your side of the damn bed,” Murdoc snapped, not at all trying to keep his voice down like Russel was, and the drummer could already feel 2D beginning to stir beside him from their conversation. “I know it’s hard since you’re kind of a whale, but do your best.”

The rest of his sentence was just a series of grumbles and grunts that were impossible to make out. Russel rolled his eyes and shoved Murdoc, who retaliated like a damn bird of prey, once again going after the drummer’s shins with his nails and this time definitely nicking the skin.  
“Shit!”

“That’ll teach you.”

“That’s it!”

Russel launched himself out of bed, fumbling around for his abandoned jeans and looking into the pockets. Murdoc ignored him, curling into the warm spot left behind and burying his head under the pillow.

“What’s wrong Russ?” 2D asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, voice low and thick with sleepiness. 

“Don’t worry, D, go back to sleep. I just can’t handle Murdoc’s damn talons anymore. It’s time I do something about this. This isn’t the first time he’s sliced me with them.”

“Oh. It’s too early for this tripe,” the singer groused, making like Murdoc and retreating back under the covers.

But Russel was not to be deterred. He was sick of having his sleep interrupted by Murdoc’s shitty hygiene and bad attitude, and he was ready to retaliate. Finally finding what he was looking for, he turned back to the bed and jumped on, making 2D groan in annoyance as the mattress shook and creaked under his substantial weight. A glance at the digital clock revealed that it wasn’t that early after all—it was already mid-morning—so Russel didn’t feel so bad about keeping the singer from falling back asleep since this would benefit them all in the long run.

Murdoc had continued to ignore him, holding the pillow securely over his head in a show of definace. But the drummer had no interest in taking the pillow away. Instead, he yanked the covers back from the bassist and wrapped one huge fist around one of Murdoc’s ankles, hoisting it up onto his lap.

“The hell are you doing?”

That got the bassist’s attention, and now he threw the pillow at Russel, suddenly wide awake. 2D rolled over to face the action as well, though his eyes remained half-closed, ready to slip back into sleep the second their bickering got boring.

“I’m clipping your toenails myself since you refuse to.” The drummer responded. “Just hold still okay? Otherwise I’ll accidentally clip off a whole stankass toe.”

Letting out a dinosaur-like screech, Murdoc promptly ignored the warning, breaking his foot loose and trying to kick the drummer in the face. Russel was bigger, and he was at an advantage since he was already looming over the green man. With ease, he grabbed both of his ankles and lifted them high, causing Murdoc to squirm and scramble for purchase, seething up at the younger man.

“Let go of me now, Russ!”

“Not until you behave and let me do what I wanna do.”

“Fuck you, tubby.”

“And that’s another thing. I won’t let up until I get an apology for all the mean names you’ve been hurling nonstop since you woke up.”

Murdoc arched up to swing at Russel’s face, but the larger man just lifted his arms up over his head, practically holding Murdoc upside-down by his ankles. Not expecting the move, the bassist grunted; he didn’t exactly have the core strength to curl his body up that quick.

“Hold _still_ , Muds, just for two seconds. Then you can go back to sleep.” He really didn’t want to hurt the man, but his temper was starting to get the best of him, and he dropped the bassist’s weight back onto the poor abused mattress, folding Murdoc’s knees up over his chest and pinning him down, his glare intense.

Murdoc’s mouth twitched, expressions scattering around between anger, bewilderment, and even some fear. It was satisfying. Eventually, he settled on scowling at Russel but submitting, crossing his arms over his chest huffily but letting the fight drain from his body. The drummer waited a few moments to make sure it wasn’t a trick, and then sat back on his heels, gently holding up first the bassist’s right foot, snipping away at his sharp nails until they were squared and human-length again, brushing the trimmings onto the floor. He doubted 2D would mind.

Surprised that Murdoc had finally given in and allowed him to carry on, he relented slightly, grip getting softer. He switched to the left foot and stroked up the green man’s ankle lightly. It was unusual to see him so quiet and… _submissive_.

Russel realized that what he was feeling wasn’t simply satisfaction that he’d no longer get stabbed by knives every time he climbed into bed with the bassist: it was arousal at seeing Murdoc beneath him like this, his legs strewn on either side of the drummer’s body.

In the months that they had been hooking up, Murdoc had never once allowed himself to be put in a remotely vulnerable position. He was happy to fuck 2D and Russel as often as they asked, and he loved giving head (and damn was he good at it too). He was up for just about anything, but had always steered their sex away from letting himself get pinned down. And frankly, Russel was interested.

“You finished then, or do you have a foot fetish you haven’t told us about then, mate?”

Murdoc’s quip brought him out of his thoughts, and he realized that since he had finished his task, he’d just been sitting there with one of the bassist’s feet resting in his hand.

Compared to the drummer, the bassist was so small. His anklebones were delicate: Russel could wrap his whole hand around them. It wouldn’t be so hard to hold him down, pin him to the bed and touch him, fuck him, until he was a whimpering mess. And wouldn’t it be so gratifying to finally hear the bossy prick beg for it?

“He’s waiting on his apology, Muds,” 2D informed, eyes closed once again. “For calling him fat. Say sorry.”

“Oh, he knows I’m only having a little fun, right Russ?”

The bassist looked up at Russel, not bothering to lift his foot out of the other man’s grip.

“No,” Russel answered slowly, trying to push his thoughts aside. “I want an apology.”

The bassist’s response was an eye-roll and a scoff, but he relented. “Fine. You know I don’t mean those things, Russ. But c’mon. Just because I suck your dick doesn’t mean I can go all soft on you. I’ve got an image to maintain, all right? But I didn’t really mean what I said. Well, I mean you are overweight to be fair. So I’m sure you get where I’m coming from, right?”

“A- _hem_ ,” 2D interrupted. 

“Right, _rrrr_ ight. We’re getting off-track here, aren’t we? What I mean to say is, sorry mate. I’ll try not to call you those things if it really upsets you that much.”

“Thanks, man. Might be the first time I’ve ever heard you actually apologize.”

“Yeah well,” he shrugged. “Not everyday you can find someone who’ll put up with you the way you do, Russ.” He glanced at the peaceful face of the singer, who might have fallen back asleep given how still he was. “You’re patient. Even clipping my nails for me. Any chance I could get you to give me a foot rub while you’re down there?”

“Not a chance,” he answered, though he was smiling. He released the bassist, who promptly rolled over to 2D and wrapped an arm around him. “But I was gonna start some breakfast if you’re interested.”

“Nah, think I’m gonna rest a bit longer,” he said, eyes never leaving 2D’s face. “Leave the coffee on though, I’ll have some in a few hours.”

“You got it, Muds.”

Their fight had ended on surprisingly good terms, but the mood had shifted now. Murdoc wanted to be alone with his lover. With his boyfriend. Russel could respect that. He’d had a boyfriend once too, he knew how those things went. So he grabbed his shirt and belt and jeans. And he left them to enjoy the rest of their morning.


	7. Recollection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry it's been a while, and sorry that there's not any real smut in this chapter. This is a bit of necessary flashback and backstory. I wanted to warn everyone that there are both depictions of pretty graphic violence as well as a lot of discussion of mental illness, depression, and suicide ideation in this chapter. I do not want ANY of my readers to feel uncomfortable, so if you'd like me to add any additional tags, please let me know.
> 
> Also! Please let me know if you'd like me to send you a summary or scenes omitting the violence if that would make you feel better.
> 
> As always, I'm looking for ideas for later chapters, so if you have suggestions, please let me know ok? Enjoy, and kudos are appreciated, comments on AO3 and Tumblr add months to my lifespan (and ensure less time between chapters!)
> 
> Thanks as always for reading!

The shitty two-door sedan always reeked of reefer and stale McDonald’s French fries. Still, it felt like home when the plastic speakers were vibrating from the bass, cranking out whatever fresh hip-hop cassettes Del had managed to scavenge from friends to play. They would drive around Bay Ridge, Canarsie, Bed Stuy, passing blunts back and forth and talking about music. Sometimes there would be a group, friends that Del promised were like brothers to him, cousins and cousins of cousins. Russel always preferred when it was just the two of them. He had no interest in their casual talk of local gang activity and their judgment of who was full of shit.

Unlike Del, who only bought and sold weed, they dealt with heavier stuff: cocaine, crack, angel dust. Being exorcised once already had given Russel an aversion to anything that might draw the attention of adult figures. He kept his head down, not interested in getting into trouble with the cops. Convinced that Father Cain had fucked him up more than he’d fixed him the last time a spirit had haunted him, he had made up his mind to live a good but dull life, to stay out of trouble for his own good. It wasn’t in the nature of the Hobbs family to stand out and get noticed anyway. He never judged Del’s friends for doing what they had to do, but he wanted to keep his distance nonetheless. 

It was five of them one night in Bay Ridge, crammed in Del’s car and drinking warm beer. Andre was there, who was just alright in Russel’s opinion. Him and Tyvon were close, and even though he hated Ty and felt he was a terrible influence on Del, what could he do? Del was a social butterfly, a free spirit, sending a solar grin in Russel’s direction only to turn back, rapt, and listen to Ty berate hip-hop, insisting that rap was going to transplant it, reign supreme. Del laughed, licked his _alwayssoft_ lips.

“Nah man, let me tell you how wrong that is on a damn spiritual level.” He gesticulated like mad when he was talking about music, when he was excited, which was most of the time. Russel was hardly listening to Del speak, mostly because he’d heard this tangent a thousand times before. He was content to watch Del rave, wave his hands, gold jewelry glimmering against his skin, the dance of the gold chain he always wore, the one his grandfather had given him. The one he kept on even when they were alone in Del’s basement apartment, or in Russel’s family’s kitchen late at night when the rest of the family was asleep…

Russel turned to look out the window, focusing and unfocusing his eyes on an advertisement for a new flavor Slurpee 7-Eleven was offering. It was best not to dwell on what he did alone with Del when Del’s friends were around. Crazy Charlie was also in the car, but it was hard to strike up conversation with him when Andre sat between them in the back seat while Ty and Del bickered in the front. Crazy Charlie seldom uttered more than a handful of words any time they hung out, but Russel liked him. Andre claimed he’d earned the nickname when a girl he’d liked had dumped him in front of all his friends. Others had insisted the name came from one time he’d gotten so drunk it had given him superhuman strength and he’d managed to steal from a local pawn shop and hop three huge fences to outrun the cops. Still others said that it was because his mother had left his family to marry a millionaire in the Philippines, and he’d gone insane with the loss of her compassion.

Russel guessed they just called him crazy because he was quiet and didn’t take his fries with any ketchup.

Wherever the nickname hailed from, it wasn’t making him too entertaining in the back seat, and Russel sighed and pressed his cheek to the cool glass of the window, wishing he was home. He hadn’t felt great all night, and had been trepidatious to meet up with Del. But it was Del—the problem was that Russel could never deny him anything. There were times that his gut just told him to lay low, and this was one of those times. Tapping his fingers on his jeans, watching cars whiz by on the road by the parking lot, nothing could keep his mind of the rumble of anxiety percolating in his skull.

“And anyway Hip Hop came from the Bronx! So if you’re trying to tell me that something as resilient as the folk who started MCing parties back when the borough was literally going up in flames is gonna make way for the Beastie Boys’s protégés, you’re out of your mind!”

Oh good, Del was winding down with his speech. He turned to see if he could rejoin the conversation, but just then his heart clenched almost painfully in his chest.

Russel recognized the feeling; he’d had a few panic attacks in his life, and the sudden tightness in his chest was enough to indicate another one was coming on. So suddenly? With little more than a vague sense of dread leading up to it? It made no sense, but suddenly all five of his senses were telling him to go home, turn out the lights, and get under a blanket now.But before he could alert Del that he needed to go home immediately, a large black Humvee pulled up alongside them, practically out of thin air.

“Who the fuck are they?” Tyvon asked, fingers going to his belt where he kept a switchblade. 

The window rolled down in one of the cars.

Already starting to sweat, Russel knew that he had to be hallucinating. From within the car, everyone appeared to be wearing red hoods. Except for the driver.

Who appeared to be the Grim Reaper, looking straight into his eyes.

“Oh, shit.” Del muttered, real low. And suddenly at least four men were leaning out of all the available windows in the cars, guns in hand.

“What the fuck—” Andre started to scream, but suddenly his chest erupted in red froth as the men opened fire. His body twitched as it was loaded with bullets.

Del turned away from the Humvee, from the gunmen, to the back of his car. He lurched back as a second round of gunfire exploded the entire side of the sedan. “Down!” he managed to scream at Russel, grabbing his arm and yanking him down to the floor of the car hard, biceps flexing with the effort.

Even as a young man, Russel was big, and it wasn’t exactly a comfortable fit alongside the feet of his companions. But the sound of gunshots was enough to have him curling in on himself as much as possible as mortal terror vibrated through every cell in his body. His ears rang with the screams of his friends and the blast of the guns, of shattering glass, of howling metal.

“Drive, drive, drive!”

He could make out that order over and over again as Tyvon screamed at Del, who gunned it, and the engine roared. But enough shots had already hit the wheels of his car that they weren’t going anywhere. The smell of burnt rubber mixed with the smell of smoke.

Shaking, Russel closed his eyes tight.

In his mind’s eye, he could still see the image of the Grim Reaper coming into focus from behind a tinted window. His mind filled with white noise. Then blackness.

He didn’t know if it was seconds or minutes that he was out, but when Russel came to, it was to the sound of sirens. He was squeezed so tightly into such a small space that at first he couldn’t move, and it seemed he might be paralyzed. No, no, his muscles were just stiff. Turning his head around, trying to figure out where he was and if their attackers were still nearby, he looked up above him, his eyes meeting Crazy Charlie’s.

Charlie’s eyes were glazed and dull, his lips parted and red was leaking from them. Though he’d never seen one before, Russel realized that he was looking at a corpse. From Charlie’s neck down to where his body was obstructed from Russel’s view, his clothing was black with blood.

“Oh my god. Del?” Russel was so scared his voice was scarcely above a whisper. “Del? Baby, no. Del. Del please! Baby please! No!”

He was still screaming incomprehensibly when minutes later, police officers yanked a door open, reached in and hefted him out, struggling with his weight as he refused to cooperate, limbs refusing to hold him. He screamed all the way to the hospital, as blue and red lights from the cruiser painted the dark highway, as sirens sang in tandem with his hysteria, until a needle administered enough Ativan into his veins that his mouth closed and then his eyes closed and then a chapter closed on his life.

X  
X  
X

He didn’t listen to music for weeks. Sat in his room or walked around, ignoring the familiar faces that leaned out of delis and smoke shops, asking after him, after Del’s family. He couldn’t bear to interact with the familiarity of it all when such a gaping part of his everyday life was absent. Without music, all the other sounds that inundated him caused migraines: birds chirping, old men’s smoker’s coughs, tires squealing, children crying in strollers. He couldn’t get a break from the pain and he didn’t seek one out. This suffering was what he deserved for living when all four of his friends had died. When Del had looked him dead in the eyes seconds before he was bled out by stranger’s pistols.

Things got even worse when his parents told him definitely that he was being sent to live in England with one of his father’s brothers to keep him safe. Brooklyn was clearly not meant to be his home. Belsize Park was so drastically different from his home that the culture shock, mixed with the trauma, led him to frequent panic attacks. His kind but helpless uncle could only look at him with pity and confusion, promising that these feelings would pass.

It became a sort of self-harm, isolating himself from the things he had once cherished. And as he sat, locked away in his room, lights off and curtains pulled, the guilt compounded into certainty: he should have died too. And so finally the thought came one day in the early hours of the morning following another sleepless night: he should join them.

That’s when it happened.

_You’re out of your fuckin’ mind, Hobbs. You know_ damn well _you have a job to do._

Del’s voice, loud and clear in his head as though his best friend was right there beside him. Russel got up from his bed, paced his small room. He was going out of his mind.

_You need to create the music I never got to make! Get off your ass, Russ, and_ do something!

“Del?” He whispered what tasted like a long-forgotten sacrament on his tongue.

_No, it’s Grandmaster Caz. Duh it’s me!_

Anyone who hadn’t been possessed by demons several times over might have sought psychiatric treatment. But Russel Hobbs, who knew full well that spirits and ghosts were as commonplace as stray cats and bad haircuts, knew what he was hearing was real.

“I’m being haunted by my best friend.”

He smiled.

He crossed his room to grab his cassette player.

He selected the first mix-tape Del had ever made for him.

X  
X  
X

Unfortunately, the possession proved to be sporadic. There were days that Russel could hear Del’s thoughts all day. Muttering at asshole drivers when Russel crossed the streets, complaining about the shitty pop-rock coming out of restaurants they passed, warning Russel that he really shouldn’t order another round of hot wings, his eyes were bigger than his stomach. Other days, Russel had to strain to reach the ghost’s voice, like it was wedged somewhere in his brain that was harder to access. But when Russel was engaged with music, Del seemed to come forward, interest piqued.  


Soon, making the sorts of mixed tapes that Del would have enjoyed wasn’t enough. The young man was frequenting record shops so often that he was offered a job, and he took it. He gave suggestions to those who were interested in discovering new sounds, and tapped beats along on the front desk when he wasn’t helping anyone.

Tapping his fingers and using pens as drumsticks stirred up memories of playing the tom-toms in elementary school band back before his supernatural encounters started, and Russel resolved to raise the money from his part-time job to get himself a proper drum kit.

_You’re flourishing._ Del approved. _It’s good to see, baby._

Russel’s heart skipped. Del could feel it.

And in that collective moment, they both felt it.

“I love you.” Russel spoke out to the empty record shop.

And Del smiled, but it was his own lips that curved up.

_You’re just realizing that now? I loved you since I met you, babyboy. You really gonna pretend you didn’t realize?_

X  
X  
X

Russel awoke in a cold sweat, visions of blood and dreadlocks and scratched CDs fluttering beneath his eyelids.  
It was going to be one of those days. He groaned and rolled onto his belly, trying to take some deep breaths to calm the knot in his stomach. Moments like these, where he felt less like a successful musician and more like a damaged teen all over again, he was hyperaware of how quiet his mind had become since Del had been exorcised from his body after the Gorillaz broke up.

Just him and the negative thoughts swirling around in his bloodstream, nestling in the crevices of his frontal lobe.

Fantastic.

After about a half hour, he mustered up the energy to sit up and fumble through his bedside drawer, grabbing a bottle of Xanax and pouring out a few, swallowing them dry. As he placed the bottle on the table, his cell vibrated with a text alert from Murdoc. He flipped open the phone, annoyed to find a multimedia message loading; he hated those stupid things. They took forever to load. Finally, he was able to make out a shitty photo that Murdoc must have taken. The lighting was horrible, but the picture was of a corset and garter set. Moments later, the picture message was followed up with text:

_Gonna give this to bluebird 2nite. care 2 join us?_

The offer was kind, but Russel knew that there was no way he was going to be able to face anyone today. Depression and anxiety were battling it out, and he just wanted to drug himself to sleep and hope that this round passed quickly. Though he preferred calling to texting most of the time, he tapped out a quick declination and tossed the phone across the room, where it landed safely in the soft pile of clothes in his hamper. No more distractions.

With that, he dropped back into bed. Even with the Xanax, sleep didn’t come quickly, but when it did, it was filled with more vivid dreams of Del, both living and haunting him.

Fortunately, the next morning, Russel felt a bit more himself. While he was certainly not at a hundred percent, taking a day to recharge had proved beneficial, and he was able to get out of bed and drink a glass of water. A few hours later, he realized that he was hungry, and seeing as Kong seemed quiet, he decided to go and get something to eat. There was no way he felt like cooking, but fortunately, there was half a box of cereal; something sugary Noodle had probably picked up, and he sat alone in the kitchen, picking at the cereal dry. Coffee would have been good too, but again, that meant cleaning out coffee grinds from the last time he’d made it, and that felt overwhelming.

About a half an hour into his introspective breakfast, 2D made his way into the kitchen, bearing a scruffy face in need of a shave and sporting un-matching socks in need of a wash.

“Hi, Russ.”

Russel nodded a good morning, not really looking forward to a full-blown conversation. Unfortunately 2D seemed determined to have a chat, and he fetched two mugs out of the cabinet, pausing in front of the newly-installed window, a silhouette against early afternoon light.

“Cuppa?”

If coffee was out, a hot cup of tea might not be so bad.

“Please. Thank you.”

“Sure. I’d offer to make you coffee, but that machine and I don’t get along too well. And anyway I always manage to make it way too strong. Muds says I get overzealous with the scooper.” He didn’t say anything about Russel’s lack of appearance through the entirety of the past day and night, but then, it’s not like the drummer really wanted his bandmates to worry about him anyway.

“No problem. I appreciate it. Where’s Muds?”

2D put the kettle on and fetched his preferred black tea, dropping two bags into their mugs and leaning back against the counter, looking at the dishes sitting in the sink.

“He’s uh, on a bender today. Since last night, actually. He got a call from his brother asking for money I think.”

“I thought his brother was in jail?”

“Maybe it was bail money then. I don’t know, I don’t ask a lot of questions when stuff like that happens. But anyway, it set him off and stressed him out. We were gonna have a nice date night, the two of us. But that never happened. He’s just been drinking and sleeping and throwing shit,” 2D shrugged, face unreadable. “I mean, I try to stay at his side when he’s like that. But he’s been asleep for a while now, and I needed a break. Figured you wouldn’t mind the company.”

A pang of guilty hit Russel for trying to be closed off, and that was followed quickly by a reminder that he was selfish and a terrible human being. Pushing aside his own complicated thoughts, he pulled out the chair beside him, motioning for 2D to take a seat by him, which he did with a small smile.

“I’m sorry it’s been rough. He doesn’t hit you or anything when he’s like that, does he?”

It was the first time he’d vocalized his concerns about Murdoc’s violent outbreaks since they’d started sleeping together, and he hoped 2D wouldn’t close up or take offense. He only shook his head vehemently. 

“It’s not really like that anymore,” he said. “When he’s drinking ‘cuz of his family, it’s like he enters another space, and he’s not totally there with me. He talks at me, but not to me. But anyway, I just needed to get away from it.”

“Well I’m happy to offer you company,” Russel said, passing the box of cereal to the younger man. “Where’s Noods?”

“Oh yeah, she wanted to go shopping for something. Can’t remember what. Some enchanted monkey talisman or something, maybe? Or maybe it was shoes. Dunno. She left kinda early this morning, and I was still sleepy from dealing with Muds, so I was only half-listening.”

“And she’s still gone?”

“Well she was gonna go shopping in London.”

“Wait,” Russel snapped into hyper-focus, parental instincts overriding all depressive thoughts, if only for a minute. “You let a fourteen-year-old girl go to London by herself?”

2D looked alarmed by the sudden edge to Russel’s voice. “Oh well don’t worry,” he soothed, placing a slender hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s not like she walked. She took a train.”

The drummer groaned. “That’s not the point, D. I should have been up and about yesterday; I would have offered to go with her. She shouldn’t be going into big cities all by herself.”

“She can handle herself, Russ. She knows martial arts and stuff.”

“It’s not about that! She’s still a little kid, even if she doesn’t act like it. We can’t normalize this kind of behavior!”

“Yeah, when people see she’s alone, they’re probably gonna overcharge her,” the singer mused as though he was finally starting to see a problem.

Just then the kettle began to whistle, so he rose to prepare their tea. “Still, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. When she gets home later, you can talk to her about it and next time, one of us will tag along.”

“Yeah. She has her cellphone on her?”

“Think so. You can call her if you want.”

Russel fumbled around his pockets, unable to find his phone. He’d left it in his room. Shit. “One crisis after another.”

“It’s no crisis. Noodle will be fine. And so will Muds.” 2D brought a steaming mug of tea over, and Russel wrapped his hands around it, enjoying the heat, even when it got a little too hot. Still felt good just to feel. He was too tired to really get up and pursue either problem at the moment anyway. Maybe he’d feel better after he got a little caffeine into him.

“You really worry about him, huh, D? Does he get like this often?”

“Not as much as he used to before the band broke up. Back then he was really out of control. Now, the craziness is more an act of the press attention,” he said, stirring a spoonful of sugar into his tea, then another. “It’s just, I know him better now. We have a deeper connection than I ever would have thought possible. And I wanna take care of him.”

“You love him,” Russel said. And it was so obvious, but in his vulnerable state, that familiar green plume of jealousy still rose to the back of his throat.

2D nodded, adding a third spoonful of sugar. “I do. Muds is an arse on the outside. And annoying as hell. And mean. But when you get to know him, he can be quite precious really.”

Russel chuckled a bit. “Never thought I’d hear the word ‘precious’ used to describe Murdoc Niccals.”

“He really is though! I love how he just grins and stares sometimes when he thinks I can’t notice. And the way he always buys little trinkets that make him think of me. And the way he keeps kissing and kissing after sex. It makes it so romantic.”

“Well he is a pretty good kisser,” Russel agreed good-naturedly, pushing the sugar bowl out of the singer’s reach as he reached for another spoonful. “Hey, something I’ve been meaning to ask you about him actually…”

Something that had been burning in his gut from the moment he cut Murdoc’s nails and saw the man splayed beneath him. Something he needed to know he could proceed with once and for all.

“I mean I know I’ve only slept with you guys a handful of times, and you two clearly have a healthy sexual relationship…” 

“ _Veeery_ healthy,” 2D giggled, touching his thumb to his bottom lip at the thought.

“And I know we’ve done all sorts of stuff together. So have you ever…I mean it feels vulgar to be so blunt, but have you ever, er…topped him? Like fucked him, I mean? Has he let you?”

“Oh,” 2D said, processing the question and then smiling smugly. “ Oh! Yeah, I’ve fucked Murdoc before. He lets me.”

“Yeah?” Russel was smiling too now. It felt a little naughty, sitting right in the kitchen of Kong and talking about what they did behind closed doors. Discussing explicit sex acts over tea and cereal. “Bet that’s pretty hot.”

“Mhm,” the singer agreed, taking a tentative sip of his still-too-hot tea. “He makes really cute noises, and locks his legs around my waist like a vice. It’s like he can’t get fucked deep enough.”

“Sexy.” It was also the first time they’d had such openly sexual talks without it being the three of them. Part of the thrill of this flirtation was that he was flirting with 2D when his boyfriend wasn’t around, the two of them discussing him in a position he’d never allowed himself to be in before during any of their encounters. 

“Yeah, to hear the great—what’s that song he’s working on? ‘Murdoc is God?’ To hear the great ‘bass slayer rock god’ Murdoc begging for your dick is a pretty good ego boost, I gotta admit. Oh, and he can come without having his cock touched.”

“D, you’re gonna have to rev it down or I’m gonna get riled up right here at the breakfast table,” he said playfully.

“Oh, sorry! You just got me thinking about it is all. It’s a bit of a power trip, I guess. Sorry.”

“No harm done. Thanks for telling me. You don’t ever have to talk about what you two do together if you don’t want to, okay?”

2D looked right into his face, those black eyes somehow so disarming. “We both trust you, Russel. Really. It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it.”

“Wow…thanks, D. Means a lot.” How reassuring, to hear those words right when his self esteem was in such need of a little boost. How strange, that the comfort came from an open talk about anal sex rather than a discussion of their feelings.

“Of course! Hey, speaking of breakfast, is this all the cereal we’ve got?”

“Yeah I think so.”

2D sighed and pushed his chair back from the table striding over to the fridge only to sulk when he got there. “And we’re out of eggs too! Actually, we don’t have much of anything that looks particularly edible. There’s someone’s sandwich…and there’s mold on it. And some spinach dip.”

“I think that was cream cheese.”

“Oh. Ew…”

Russel groaned and stood up. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m still hungry, so right now, we’re going to order takeout and eat a proper meal.”

“Sounds good to me!”

“And tomorrow, all four of us are going food shopping.”

2D’s enthusiastic smile fell instantly. “Why all four of us? Muds is going to be hung-over and I don’t want to. You and Noodle do it.”

“No. I think we need to all get out of the house. And I think Noodle’s little stunt today indicates that she’s feeling neglected. It’ll take Murdoc’s mind of whatever’s bugging him, and we’ll stock the fridge and cook a nice healthy meal to share. Quality time with one another is what we all need right now.”

He didn’t bother to mention that Murdoc’s mind wasn’t the only one that needed to be cleared. But it was clear that their tiny family was disconnected. It was tough, but Russel knew that the best way to clear his head was to take care of his family. Especially since they seemed to need the help anyway.

“Yeah yeah, fine. But it better not take all day.”

“It won’t. I’m gonna dig up some take-out menus.”

“I think I know where Noodle keeps them. I want Chinese!”

“Deal. But first, throw that nasty cream cheese out, D.”


	8. Vulnerability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This chapter contains a lot of plot, and I'd like to make very clear that there are mentions of PTSD and past non-consensual sexual relations in this chapter (absolutely no descriptions of the latter, of course, but the topic is addressed). PLEASE do not read if this will make you uncomfortable. You can just message me for a chapter summary, or skip this chapter completely and I promise that the next chapter will be considerably lighter in tone. As ever, if there's anything I can improve upon, feel free to let me know, and at this point, I'm looking for requests, so if you have something you'd like to see, let me know! :) Thanks for reading!

When she finally returned home, Noodle was thrilled at the idea of a shopping trip with all three of her bandmates. She took inventory of the entire kitchen, writing down a three-page list of things they needed to stock up on.

2D had the task of rousing Murdoc and sobering him up in preparation for the next day’s activities. Russel decided to stay out of that fight, and put his faith in the singer’s ability to convince Murdoc to stop moping and instead to pull himself together enough to face the public.

When the following morning rolled around, Russel was surprised to see 2D up and dressed at a decent hour, preparing his usual strong cup of tea and handful of pills for breakfast and polishing off what was left of the cereal.

“Is Murdoc coming?” Russel asked.

Before 2D could answer, Noodle skipped in, wearing a pair of electric pink and yellow striped knee-high socks 2D had gifted her for Christmas along with a denim skirt and an oversized Santana tee-shirt. “I just saw him in the hallway; he’s coming,” she chirped.

“Oh wow…I was half-expecting him to cancel.”

“Nah, he’s just not a morning person,” 2D responded. “But he told me yesterday that he’d come, and Muds doesn’t go back on his word. Unless he gives you his word that he’s only gonna have one more drink. Or that he won’t polish off all your cigarettes. Or that he’ll call the groupies he takes backstage during tours. Or—”

“I do not know what you said to convince him to come, Toochi, but I am so happy that the four of us will be bonding outside of the recording studio!” Noodle gushed, hopping up onto the kitchen counter and swinging her legs.

2D smiled and shrugged. “I have my ways, luv.”

“When was the last time we all spent time together?” She fiddled with a loose string on the hem of her tee-shirt. “It was probably back when we were crammed on that horrid, smelly bus, touring for the first album.”

“You’re right, Noods. Things weren’t always so great; you didn’t speak that much English, and Murdoc was usually stoned or drunk. Or both. Those days were wild.”

“Well you may not have understood me, but I understood what you boys were saying. You were always the most profound late at night. I think your wisest words were spoken around salt and vinegar crisps, 2D.”

Russel chuckled and watched them reminisce. It was good to see Noodle coming out of her shell for once, unable to hold still in her excitement and actually looking like a child for the first time in far too long. Her relationship with 2D had always been strong, and a day together was sure to do them both good.

A few minutes later, Murdoc came in, sporting his flamboyant purple cape, a greasy head of hair, and a halo of cigarette smoke around him.

“Morning, Muds. Glad you could join us. Put the cigarette out; you know how I feel about it in the kitchen.”

“Great, Russel’s already in a bossy mood,” the bassist grumbled, voice still gravely with sleep and hangover. Nonetheless, he stubbed the cigarette into one of Kong’s omnipresent ashtrays and instead grabbed what was left of a carton of orange juice and some old vodka. 

“Listen mate, you’re lucky Dents was able to convince me to come along on your little shopping spree. Don’t know why you’re so set on forcing me to deal with you lot lately, but don’t think I’m gonna always go along with it, alright?”

Tempting though it was to fight back, Russel instead chose to be diplomatic. Talking with 2D the previous day had him aware of the fact that Murdoc could very well be curled up in bed, drinking and suffering alone through his inner demons. That he was instead taking the initiative to get outside and socialize was a sign of true personal strength. This was active self-improvement. Russel knew how hard it could be to steer out of a dark episode—he’d just avoided one himself.

Best to go easy on the bassist and hope that kindness would prevail.

“Well don’t worry. It won’t take us that long to shop. When we come home, you can go back to whatever it is you want to do. Although I was gonna make a nice big dinner if you’re interested…”

“So you’re gonna make me leave Kong, but then you’re gonna make it up to me?” Murdoc asked, knocking back half a glass of his homemade screwdriver in a single gulp. “Well, you know I’m very interested in seeing how you make things up to me.” And god dammit if he didn’t wink slyly as he spoke those words.

Russel pursed his lips, momentarily lost for words. Was Murdoc flirting with him? Right in front of Noodle? Sexy though the move was, it was risky, and he chose to diffuse the comment rather than flirt back.

“Whatever you guys want to eat, just tell me.”

“Pizza!” 2D piped up.

“Roast duck! Swedish meatballs! Baked salmon with remoulade sauce!” As ever, Noodle’s culinary tastes eluded Russel.

Murdoc only chuckled at his friends’ enthusiasm and rubbed his eyes, casting one more sly look at Russel that seemed to imply that he wanted to eat something else entirely. 

Steeling himself against the bassist’s salacious looks, Russel wondered if Murdoc knew how much 2D had opened up the previous day, or if he thought the drummer was clueless about his bender. Either way, it wasn’t time to worry about secrets; it was time to stock up their home.

“Great suggestions, we can iron that out later I guess. We ready to go?”

Noodle launched herself off of the counter and headed towards the garage, yelling over her shoulder that she was picking what music to listen to.

“Where are the keys?” Murdoc asked, standing and smoothing out his jeans.

“Are you kidding?” Russel asked. “You just started your morning with vodka and you think I’m going to let you drive with Noodle in the car?”

Murdoc snorted and turned to Russel, tossing his cape over his shoulders theatrically. “See mate, the funny thing is that you seem to be implying I’ve never driven drunk before, when in reality, I can’t quite recall the last time I drove sober. It’ll be fine, just give me the keys.”

“No, man. I’m driving today.”

Murdoc’s expression slid from neutral to his signature sneer. “Oh, I see how it is,” he snapped, reaching into his pocket and fishing out another cigarette defiantly. “First you conspire with Stu to have a ‘happy little family outing,’” he spoke the last words in air quotes, voice mocking. “Then you have him talk me into coming along, and now you won’t even let me drive? Maybe I don’t want to go along at all then, how’s that? Why are you two so interested in controlling me today?”

“Muds,” 2D whispered, suddenly right against his boyfriend’s side, his fingers twitching nervously. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not like that—”

“Did you tell him about my brother calling, sunshine? About our fantastic little chat because he’s in prison for stealing cars again and wants bail money?”

“Murdoc, please, just listen to us—” 2D was desperate to calm the man down, but his fearful expression revealed his guilt, and Murdoc rounded on Russel, furious.

“How often do you two have little pow-wows about me?” he demanded. “Do you sit around after I fall asleep and psychoanalyze my every bad habit and childhood trauma?”

“Never,” Russel said evenly. It was incredible how quickly conversations could shift with Murdoc. One moment they were flirting, the next, Murdoc was looking at Russel with a fury that felt far too dramatic given the minor transgression. This instability, Russel realized, was something that he still had no idea how to effectively manage, even after years of knowing the man. “Take a deep breath and let’s go; Noodle is waiting for us.”

“No! I’m not some little puppet for the two of you to yank around. You can’t control me just because you feel sorry for me!”

“Murdoc, please that’s not what’s happening here,” 2D pleaded, looking from his boyfriend to Russel for any indication of support. “We don’t talk about you behind your back and we aren’t trying to control you, I just thought this would help you, really!”

“Muds,” Russel placed a hand on the bassist’s shoulder and squeezed. He could feel Murdoc’s body quivering with agitation, his muscles twitching. He could almost feel his very nerves sizzling with electricity. Both men froze and looked at Russel expectantly. “Look, I’m dragging you of the house for all of us, not just because I think it’d be good for you. You know where Noodle was yesterday? Do you?”

Murdoc blinked back at him, mouth a thin, tight line. Reluctantly, he shook his head no.

“She went to London alone, because no one was around to go with her. Little girl got on a train and walked around by herself, Murdoc. Anything could have happened to her. She could have been mugged, swept up by some pervert, overcome by paparazzi. I want us to start looking after each other more because even though she acts like an adult, she’s still just a kid, and she needs a family. She deserves better than what we had, y’know? 2D and I aren’t taking advantage of you, or forming some alliance against you, okay? I’m just trying to help us feel less like a bunch of strangers stumbling into each other and sometimes creating music, and more like a fucking family. Because that’s what I need, it’s what she needs, it’s what we all need. Got it?”

Murdoc dropped his head, eyes hidden by his fringe. He sighed heavily, shoulder rising and falling under Russel’s hand. “Yeah,” he finally mumbled. “Got it. Sorry to be a git. Just a little tightly wound from yesterday, I guess.”

Russel soothingly rubbed the heel of his hand into the back of the man’s shoulder, kneading the tension there slightly. “I understand. Two days ago, I woke up feeling really depressed. Stayed in bed all day, drugged up, tried to hide from the world. Sometimes, I guess that’s just all we know.”

2D frowned at Russel in surprise, eyebrows shooting up in sympathy at the news. “Russ, you could have told me,” he started.

“Shh, Dee, it’s fine. We’re all okay now. We’re all here. And we can work on these sorts of things together rather than alone. Starting today.” Slowly, he slid his large fingers up Murdoc’s shoulder and along the soft skin of his neck, nudging his chin up and forcing Murdoc to meet his gaze. “I just want us to start trying to rely on each other more, rather than suffering alone. We can overcome our pasts and be better, yeah?”

“Yeah,” 2D agreed, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding his head.

Just then, Noodle’s voice rang out from the garage, loud but indistinct. “We should probably go make sure she’s not gonna make us listen to Sailor Moon CDs the whole ride into town,” the singer said, taking off in her direction. “Coming, Noodle! None of that Hilary Duff crap, got it?”

He hurried out of the room, and Murdoc moved to follow him, but Russel kept his fingers on the man’s chin, guiding his head so they were looking at one another again, then gently cupping his cheek in one huge hand. Murdoc’s dark eyes returned to Russel’s face, looking at him expectantly, waiting for the drummer to say something. But Russel was suddenly at a loss for words himself, and so he leaned in towards the smaller man.

Murdoc’s breath hitched and his lips parted slightly. Gently, Russel placed a soft kiss on Murdoc’s cheekbone. He stood there a moment, his mouth on the bassist’s skin, feeling the heat from his tense, fragile body, feeling the way Murdoc held still against his touch, ready to respond however Russel wanted, ready to give whatever Russel asked. For just a moment, a surge of desire hit the drummer like lightening, and in his mind he saw himself grabbing Murdoc, tossing him up against the countertop or pinning him down to the table, kissing him breathless and demanding the bassist expose more of his inner mind, his vulnerabilities. 

Instead, he dragged his lips down, caught only the very corner of Murdoc’s mouth in a kiss, and then pulled back just as the bassist tried to lean in to deepen it, retracting his hand and rising to his full height to walk past Murdoc towards the garage.

“By the way, Muds, I’m driving, end of discussion.”

It was a moment before he heard the click of Murdoc’s Cuban heels as he too began to make his way out of the kitchen, trailing his bandmate. 

“Fuck you, Russel.”

\---

Heading out and about individually was usually not a big deal for any of the Gorillaz. As the frontman, 2D was the only one who drew attention and recognition from fans every single time he stepped foot outside, but aside from that, it was usually pretty easy to do some shopping without getting stopped more than once or twice by a fan. Noodle wryly joked that it was because she was Asian, Russel was black, and Murdoc was brown, and most Englishfolk probably couldn’t tell them from any other minority in the country.

“When did you get so cryptic, Noodle?” Murdoc asked from the backseat, where he sat slouched down beside 2D. But he was smiling nonetheless.

They got to the nearest supermarket in one piece thanks to Russel’s responsible driving, and the only hiccup came when he had to park the huge Geep, struggling a bit as he wasn’t usually the one doing such maneuvering. Murdoc laughed his ass off, any signs of his attitude from earlier dissolved at the expense of Russel’s dignity. A fair trade if the drummer was being honest.

The problem came as soon as they stepped into the store as a group, three minorities suddenly elevated to rock star status because they were accompanying an easily-recognizable beanpole with blue hair and black eyes.

“Oh my god, you guys are Gorillaz!” exclaimed a young man with more piercings on his eyebrows than he had teeth in his head.

“Oh uh, yeah mate, we are,” 2D responded awkwardly; he was always a bit shy when introduced to strangers and needed time to get warmed up.

“That’s fuckin’ amazing! Can I get a picture with you? Or an autograph or something?” The boy beamed, and beside him, Russel felt Murdoc kick into high gear, striding over with his cape flowing as 2D inquired whether or not the lad had a pen so he could sign his shopping receipt.

“Great to see a fan of our world-famous band right here in this humble marketplace,” Murdoc boomed, wrapping one arm around 2D, and holding the other out for the boy to shake. “Murdoc Niccals: leader of the band; pleasure to make the acquaintance of a fan.”

Russel was about to ask Murdoc to hurry things up when a few girls, also recognizing 2D’s bright blue hair, made their way over. It seemed they were going to be stalled for a while. Just then, there was a tug on the sleeve of his shirt, and Russel glanced down to see Noodle, smiling brightly at the fans but standing stiff with tension, beside him.

“Perhaps they can tend to these fans while you and I get some shopping done?” she suggested quietly. “While I’m happy to talk with people who enjoy our music, I could do this during touring. I came here to spend time with you today. Besides,” she gave a subtle nod of her head in Murdoc’s direction; it was a quirk she’d picked up from 2D, “I think Murdoc will be keeping everyone occupied for a while. He’s in his element. See how happy he looks?”

“Okay, Noods,” he agreed with a grin, turning away from the crowd that was rapidly growing as more and more people gathered to where 2D was already cracking terrible jokes and Murdoc was warning that he couldn’t reveal much about their next album, but that something was coming along rather nicely. Leaving the frontman and the attention-seeker to their socializing, Russel and Noodle cut through the pet food aisle, making their way towards the produce section.

“It makes me very happy to see them both in such good spirits,” Noodle commented, comparing the prices of several packages of pre-cut mushrooms.

“Yeah well, it’s a good gig really, getting fawned over every time you step outside your house.”

“I do not just mean today. I mean in general, Toochi and Murdoc seem to be…doing better than they have been in the past. Since the band got back together, Toochi has been more confident. And even though Murdoc seemed very withdraw after he got out of prison…well, he just seems more composed lately. Do you see it too?”

“I do, Noodle,” he responded, packing a bag with yellow and red peppers, “and to be honest, I think a lot of it’s got to do with how much you’re pushing them both. You’ve really been challenging us with what you’ve written, pushing our limits musically. I think they both needed the challenge. We’re a motley crew, yeah, but life just makes more sense when we’re creating music together.”

“You flatter me too much, ani,” she mumbled, although she smiled with pleasure at the praise. “I actually meant to ask you if you think there’s something else that has the two of them doing so well.”

“Something else?” Russel’s hand froze over a bunch of cilantro; was she implying what he thought she was implying? “Like, a lot of weed or something?”

“No,” she giggled. “I would smell that on them. Her smile faded, and she looked up at him, her bright green eyes visible through her fringe of black hair. “I want to know if you think they’ve found some other way to keep one another stable and happy. If maybe they’ve begun talking more with one another, or if they’ve divulged secrets together, or something of that nature. There is a certain…I do not know the English word I want to use. A sort of bond between them that has deepened.”

Shit, shit shit. She was asking if they were fucking in her prudent, roundabout, Noodle way. Although it was not something he’d ever discussed with 2D and Murdoc, he understood implicitly that when they were ready to come out as a couple to Noodle (and eventually, to their fans and to the world), they would. If they had not reached that point yet, it was definitely not his place to go spilling to Noodle that her two brother-like guardians were dating each other behind closed doors.

On the other hand, Noodle knew that out of all of her bandmates, Russel had always been the one to see her maturity the most and to talk to her with the respect and honesty of a young adult. She trusted him to be truthful with her because she trusted him to see in her the qualities that made her a uniquely sophisticated teenager.

It was a test of his loyalty to the two factions of the band he hadn’t even realized existed: on the one hand, his alliance to the lovers who had taken him into their confidence and into their bed. On the other hand, Noodle, who had always seen him as being her advocate from day one.

“It…it’s occurred to me,” he said, choosing his words carefully as he adjusted their produce in the shopping cart, making room for a mother and her toddler to get by. “I’ve wondered myself if they haven’t established a better relationship than they’ve had in the past, maybe hashed some things out. I mean, Murdoc used to be a real jerk to Dee, but I definitely think they’ve been spending more time together and have been nicer to one another. But I haven’t really asked either of them about it. And I think that whatever it is they’re doing, it’s working, because they seem happy. When they’re ready to let us in on their secret to staying sane while living in Kong Studios, I’ll be all ears.”

“I don’t think I’ll every be able to stay sane with Murdoc galloping around in his underwear,” she said, but then she patted his arm softly and nodded. “You’re right though. If things are working, why try to meddle? Perhaps we could learn from their ability to get along. Perhaps they can help us find Zen.”

They continued to shop for a while, piling the cart with raw ingredients as well as snacks and chips, protein bars to power them through day-long recording sessions and soda for evenings in front of the speakers, listening to playback of their earlier progress.

“Noods, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Russel was trying to add a carton of eggs to the cart without causing a landslide of pudding packs. “About you going to London the other day…”

“I thought you were finished reprimanding me,” she sighed. “I already promised I won’t do it again.”

“No it’s not just the trip on your own. It’s…what went into making you do that. Look, I know I’ve been caught up in a lot lately. But I’m still always here for you if you need anything. Are you okay, Noodle? Like really okay?”

The teen sighed and pushed her bangs out of her face, nodding. “I am. Really. I too have been caught up in a lot, trying to grapple with getting my memories back. With remembering who I am. Now that I’ve regained fluent English I’ve definitely felt more capable of caring for myself, so I thought I could go shopping by myself. I was impulsive, and for that I am sorry. Please do not read too far into it, though. I had no ulterior motives, nor was I acting out for attention,” she shrugged. “At least…not consciously. But to be honest, I’ve been more concerned about you recently than about myself.” She smiled at him. “You seem to be doing well though. And you seem to be spending more time with Toochi and Murdoc. If they are helping you…then I am very happy we are all healing at our own pace.”

“Me too, babygirl,” he said, pushing the cart further down the aisle. 

Though they continued to chat, Noodle didn’t push the topic of their bandmates any further, and she also didn’t ask about his sudden investment in their lives. Russel got the impression that she was deliberately steering clear, allowing him to keep things to himself, and he appreciated the discretion. 

As they rounded the dairy aisle, they bumped into 2D and Murdoc, who had successfully detached themselves from fans and managed to load their arms up with chips and sugary treats.

“Biscuits were on sale, buy two get one free!” 2D said excitedly, pouring several boxes into the shopping cart. 

“So the dullard picked up about seven boxes,” Murdoc added with a toothy grin and a guffaw.

“We know, we already picked up three boxes,” Noodle sighed. But nobody moved to take them out of the cart.

After successfully making their way to the queuing station, spending exorbitant amounts of money, and prying Murdoc away from his flirtations with the young lady bagging their goods, the four were off.

Their ride back to Kong was just as animated, with discussions of what to cook with their Geep full of food quickly getting eclipsed by Murdoc’s complaints that Noodle had a limited taste in music and the advice to change the radio station. This sparked a huge fight between them, with 2D getting involved as well although it wasn’t really clear whose side he was on.

When they finally got inside and had their plethora of bags laid out on the kitchen table and chairs, Russel realized that they still hadn’t decided on a meal. They settled on stir-fry because it was relatively easy and actually healthy, plus met 2D’s vegetarian requirements. Two hours later and they were gathered around the kitchen table, empty plates and messy napkins before them, sharing laughs, memories, and trying to narrow down a list of top ten—then top thirty—bands they’d like to perform with one day.

“This is nice,” Noodle said, brushing her bangs out of her eyes as she finished what was left of her soda. “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah, feels nice to act like a family. I miss my mum’n’dad a lot, but when we’re all together like this, I don’t feel so bad,” 2D agreed. “Hey, Russ was the mastermind behind this trip. A toast to Russel!”

“Aw, D, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, a toast to everybody’s favorite drummer!” Murdoc piped in, raising his beer bottle. “Well, barring Ringo, and Bonzo. And Keith Moon. Buddy Rich. Say, which one was the drummer from Emerson, Lake, and Palmer? I always forget.”

“To Russel!” Noodle cut him off, raising her empty glass.

The drummer could only chuckle and raise his own glass after his friends, feeling utterly ridiculous. “You three are obviously starved for attention and good food. Should have known if I wanted more favors, I should just cook for you more often.”

“Yeah yeah, well give me a little time and I’ll return the favor for you rrreal nice,” Murdoc said, licking his lips.

It was all Russel could do not to bite his lip at those words, right there in front of Noodle.

\---

As ever, 2D and Murdoc beat him to the punch. When Russel opened the door to 2D’s room, side-stepped a pile of CDs that he’d knocked over countless times already, and locked the door securely behind him, 2D was already sitting on Murdoc’s face.

He would complain about the two never waiting for him, but then, it was such a lovely view to walk in on.

“What took you so long, Russ?” 2D asked as though he wasn’t grinding his ass against his boyfriend’s mouth as he spoke.

“Well nobody wanted to help with the damn dishes, so I got caught up,” as he spoke, he unbuckled his belt and pulled off his tee-shirt.

“Mmm, hm.” Murdoc mumbled from underneath his boyfriend’s groin.

“No Muds, I’m not a slob like you and I refuse to leave the place where I eat my meals a damn mess.”

2D tittered and then moaned as the bassist grabbed his hips and pulled him close, and Russel knew all too well where his tongue was. Now that he was a little more comfortable around the two of them and new their routine, he was well aware that 2D was good for multiple rounds with very short refractory periods. So no harm in starting off by ripping an orgasm from his cute little body.

His jeans pooled around his ankles and he stepped out of them, walking up to the bed in only his boxers, which were already beginning to tent as his arousal grew. Just a tad roughly, he grabbed the singer’s chin and dragged his face over for a wet, frantic kiss. 2D kissed back eagerly, noises spilling from him more and more as Murdoc picked up the pace, tongue-fucking his hole sloppily.

Russel grinned and let his lips travel from the man’s lips to his ear as he reached down and began to stroke his swollen cock, making 2D groan in a way that might have been sheer pain or pleasure.

“Coming already, ‘D? You’re out of control,” he purred, voice low and raspy. He knew both of his bandmates went wild when he used that tone with them. 2D squirmed against the drummer’s fist, body caught up in the intense sensations overtaking him, wanting to rut down into the wet heat below him and arch up into the hand that stroked him all at once.

“C-can’t help it,” he whined. “Feels so good. Muds got me riled up.”

“Mm, yeah. But you let him do that to you, baby,” he responded, licking the man’s earlobe and swirling his thumb over the leaking slit at the head of his cock. “You wanted him to touch you like this. You want to come first; you’re so desperate for it.”

2D threw his head back then, exposing the long pale column of his neck beautifully; he was on the very cusp of orgasm.

Murdoc moaned below him, reaching his hands up and dragging his long nails down the man’s torso, leaving faint red marks.

If he was being honest, Russel had never been one for dirty talk. However, Murdoc used it liberally and it had a huge effect on 2D; it had even begun to drive Russel crazy as well. Tonight he was going to bring one of his fantasies to light, and it felt good to start by rendering their lovely singer such a mess. It was a gratifying power-rush to make him lose control so easily.

“Please,” the singer whispered. His eyes were closed and he was panting now, gripping the bed sheets as his body worked desperately against Murdoc’s mouth and Russel’s hand. “Please, I’m so close.”

“Aww, pretty 2D here wants to come already, Muds. Think we should let him?” Russel asked, leisurely tracing a vein along the singer’s dick.

“Hmmm,” Murdoc sucked on the man’s hole, the obscene sound of saliva and flesh making his lover gasp. He sounded thoughtful, but not totally convinced. 

“Please, Murdoc! Russ! P-please! I’m so close, please!”

And only because his pleas sounded almost like sobs did Russel relent, diving down to bite that pale neck hard as he fisted 2D’s dick fast and rough. 

The result was instantaneous: the singer slipped over the edge, body become racked with tremors as he moaned breathlessly, cum splattering up across his chest and even up to his neck. He came for a long time, and Russel was happy to hold his slender frame as it shook, licking the bite mark that he had left and then stroking the man’s face as he began to come down off his high. After a while, the singer sat back, shifting off of Murdoc, who remained lying below him and looking extremely smug, mouth and chin slick with his own saliva.

“Oh god, oh fuck,” the blue-haired man sighed as he tried to lower himself onto the bed beside Murdoc with shaky limbs. Russel helped guide him, supporting most of his weight. “You two are ruthless.”

“Not my fault you tempt me to do such dirty things to you,” Murdoc responded, finally sitting up and grabbing a damp towel by the bedside, tenderly wiping away the streaks of release off his boyfriend’s body. “By the way Russ, great dirty talk. Didn’t know you were one for it, but you practically had me trembling.” He laughed throatily, casting the towel aside and kissing his boyfriend softly before turning to the drummer and leaning in for a kiss from him as well.

“What can I say?” Russel asked, offering a quick peck, then getting pulled back in for a longer, deeper snog. “You inspired me.”

“Finally, my genius is catching on!” He grinned, scooting over on the bed so Russel could sit down and join them and glancing very obviously at the bulge in the drummer’s boxes.

“And speaking of learning from you, Murdoc, I wanted to run something by you.”

“Hm?”

“Man, my eyes are up here.”

“Rrrright, what is it then?” Murdoc asked, forcing himself to look up at Russel’s face.

“I was thinking we could try things a little different tonight.”

Murdoc smirked. “Mate, if you wanted me to tie you up, you should have told me from the start. I’m not a mind-reader.”

“Actually,” Russel hesitated. He’d seen them naked how many times now? And he was blushing a bit to be speaking this out loud? He didn’t want to come across as pathetic. “I was hoping tonight maybe uh…you know, I could…I could fuck you?”

Murdoc’s eyes widened a bit; of all the dirty things that he expected Russel to say, this was clearly the last thing he’d been anticipating. “Oh wow. You haven’t er, done that yet?”

The drummer shook his head. “Not once. I understand if you don’t want to. If you’re not comfortable with that, no pressure.”

“Oi, who says I’m not comfortable? I’m a bloody sex god, mate, I can take everything that I dish out!”

“So is that a yes?”

“Maybe we don’t have to make a decision tonight,” 2D cut in, placing a hand on Murdoc’s shoulder. “It’s on the table now, so we can think it over and then—”

“Absolutely, Russ. I’d love to take a ride on your big ole’ stun gun.”

Russel made a face. “Don’t quote Anthony Kiedis in the bedroom, please. It kills the mood.”

The bassist laughed through his nose, and crawled over to sit in Russel’s lap, again eyeing the tent in his boxers. “Got it.”

“Murdoc,” 2D seemed surprisingly sober considering the orgasm he’d just had. “You sure you want this? You haven’t really submitted to either of us since we started…this. You don’t have to say things just to make people happy.”

“Yeah,” Russel agreed, trying to capture his bandmate’s eyes. “You sure?”

He responded with a snort, tossing a glare at the singer. “What do I look like, some blushing teenage girl? I’ve been fucked before plenty of times. You would know, wouldn’t you, Dents? So go on and hurry up before I change my mind.”

And with that, he grabbed Russel’s face with both hands and pulled him into a demanding kiss. Russel groaned, closing his eyes and letting Murdoc’s long tongue play with his own while his hands found their way to the bassist’s waist. He was wearing only a pair of black briefs, and it was easy to grope his ass, making Murdoc arch his back appreciatively. 

“As long as you’re really okay with this,” 2D said softly, reaching under the pillow for condoms and lube, not yet ready to jump into another round himself.

To show just how eager he was, the dark-haired man squeezed Russel’s cock through his boxers, smirking when that earned him an eager moan.

“Both of you are so easy to please,” he taunted, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth a bit.

“Trust me, Muds, I’m gonna have you begging for this dick,” Russel responded, pushing the briefs aside to run his fingers over the man’s perineum and hole.

Murdoc shuddered, nails biting into Russel’s shoulders, where they had settled. He was unable to keep still, hands all over Russel’s body.

“Big talk, mate, big talk.”

“Really?” Russel raised an eyebrow dubiously, and with total ease, grabbed Murdoc by the waist and threw him belly-down onto the mattress before moving to pin him there. The bassist gasped at the sudden movement, clearly a bit surprised when he tired to raise himself up by the elbows and was unable to do so. 

If that was his game, taunting the drummer and being bitchy until it brought out Russel’s more dominant side, then so be it. Dirty talk was all well and good, but action was even better. He ran one hand down the bassist’s back, pulling his briefs down past his thighs and smacking his ass lightly. 

“You’ve got a lot to say, Muds. Maybe I should shut you up,” he breathed against the back of Murdoc’s neck. “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you up till you forget how to speak, sound good? Gonna make you all mine tonight.”

He pushed his own underwear down and ground his cock against Murdoc’s ass, cursing under his breath at how good it felt before fumbling for the lube 2D had procured. “I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted, warming the liquid up in his hands before spreading Murdoc’s cheeks and pushing a finger into him. The heat around him was deliciously tight. “It’s hot how cocky you are, but sometimes I just want to put you in your place, fuck you good and hard. Can’t wait to finally have you.”

He pushed another finger in, feeling Murdoc’s muscles clench around him.

Murdoc muttered something then, but with his head down, he was speaking into the mattress more than he was speaking to his bandmates.

“What was that?” Russel asked, amused. 

The bassist was silent for a moment, then two. Finally, he spoke up, louder this time. “Slow down. Just…a little bit.”

Russel responded instantly, withdrawing his fingers and rubbing between the man’s shoulder blades. “I’m sorry; am I hurting you?”

He shook his head no frantically in response, but it dawned on Russel that this much silence from Murdoc was unusual. 

“Muds? You okay?”

2D stepped in, bending down to meet Murdoc’s face. His own expression became one of concern as soon as he did so. 

“We need to stop,” he stated abruptly, glancing at Russel almost without seeing him and yanking the duvet out from where it had been jammed between the mattress and the wall. 

“What?” Russel felt panic lance his chest, arousal instantly gone at the tone the singer used. “Did I hurt him? Fuck, Murdoc, did I hurt you?”

Again, the bassist shook his head no as 2D wrapped him in a blanket, touching his face softly. Murdoc refused to turn to face the drummer, keeping his head down as he allowed his boyfriend to wrap him up. “I’m really sorry, Russ, I think you should go.”

Leaving Murdoc was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do, but it was hard to argue with the serious expression on the singer’s face. He rose quickly, finding his clothes and dressing as fast as he could, all the while asking questions. 

“What happened, did I hurt him? Murdoc I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! Are you okay? Please look at me!”

Holding the duvet around himself tight, Murdoc obeyed and looked in Russel’s direction, though his eyes were fixed on a point somewhere over the drummer’s shoulder. His face was pale and his eyes misty, mouth opened slightly in a look that Russel recognized as shock. Five minutes ago he had been smirking and laughing, and now he was drawing short, quick breaths like he was going to start hyperventilating. 

Anxiety attack.

Russel knew the look well because he had suffered them his entire life. But seeing Murdoc like that was more than he could bare. He tried to step forward, to offer whatever comfort he could, but 2D intercepted him, touching his arm and looking at him, brows drawn with concentration.

“Russ, I’m sorry; I’m really not trying to be rude, but please leave. I need to calm him down and I don’t need your help.”

“But what did I do?” he asked desperately, feeling like a child. “I didn’t mean to hurt him, you know that right? Fuck, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he answered. “But I need to be alone with him for a bit, okay?”

It wasn’t okay, not at all, but Russel relented, casting one last look at Murdoc, and then heading back to his own room in a blur, hardly registering his own movement as he closed and locked his door.

\---

 

He didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he alternated between pacing and sitting down in his computer chair, head in his hands. 

Russel didn’t hurt people: he was the comfort-bringer. Whenever Noodle had skinned her knees or bumped her head as a little girl, he was the one who administered the Band-Aids to the boo-boos. When 2D was locked away in his room for days at a time with debilitating migraines, it was Russel who left soup and tea on his bedside so he would remember to get something into his stomach. Murdoc might have considered himself the leader of the band, the one who arranged tours and interviews, but it was Russel who made sure everyone got where they needed to be in one piece, who soothed them after long nights and made sure their hair was brushed in the morning.

He didn’t know exactly what he’d done to trigger such panic in Murdoc—was it the dirty talk? Had he miscalculated Murdoc’s arousal and hurt him when he’d fingered him? Whatever had gone wrong, it had been enough to send him over the edge in the worst way, and the guilt had him sick to his stomach. The very day that he’d asked Murdoc to open up and show more vulnerability, he’d gone and crossed a line without meaning to.

He considered texting 2D, but didn’t want to bother him. At this point, the singer might be mad at him. It had certainly seemed that way when he refused to let the drummer stay and comfort his friend. Fuck.

It was just before dawn when there was a light knock on his door, so light that at first he thought he’d imagined it. But Russel drew himself out of the stupor he had fallen into, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at the wall as worry coursed through him. When he rose and strode across the room, his legs were numb.

He opened the door, a bit surprised to find 2D, wearing boxers and a tee-shirt and looking like he hadn’t slept the night either.

“Please tell me what I did wrong,” he begged.

“Can I come in?”

Russel nodded and let the taller man in, shutting the door behind him. 2D sat on the edge of Russel’s bed and patted the space beside him, inviting the drummer to join him. It seemed like a good sign that he was sitting close, rather than standing or sitting in the computer chair. He wasn’t trying to create distance between them, and so Russel eagerly sat beside him. The bed dipped under his weight, and 2D slid against him slightly. They both stared forward, rather than look at one another.

“I’m sorry I was abrupt with you, Russel. What happened wasn’t your fault before. I just needed to be with Murdoc ‘cause I’m the only one who can really calm him down when he goes into those states. Besides, I know he’s mortified that you saw him that way. I knew he wouldn’t want you to see him like that.”

“That’s fine. But what the hell happened back there? How can I help make things right?”

2D glanced over at Russel’s bedside, no doubt looking for a box of cigarettes. But Russel only smoked when he was with them, and he turned back to the wall, looking miserable and exasperated. He started tapping his fingers against his leg. “Sometimes, I think things are so bad that there’s really nothing you can do to make them right. All you can do is try to keep them from getting bad again.”

“Stu. Just talk to me please. Is he gonna be okay? And what did I do to make him like that? I thought he was okay with things, really. Is he okay now?”

“You know that Murdoc was in prison for a while, yeah? Back when we were split up?”

“Yeah. Mexico, right?”

“Tijuana. Typical story: whore houses and faulty checks and shit like that. Probably drug trafficking too, though he refuses to admit it to me. Dumb Murdoc shit.”

“Yeah.”

“When he was in prison, there was another bloke there. Gang leader. Had a bit of a following there in the jail, a lot of the mates let him be the boss in exchange for cigarettes, money, not getting stabbed, whatever. I don’t know all the details myself.”

Russel rubbed his eyes. “I think I know where this is going.”

“That gang leader guy and Muds didn’t get along. Nobody gets to order Murdoc Niccals around. Muds thought he could take the guy; there were a couple of scuffles but guards broke those up before Muds ever got gutted. But then, the guy switched tactics. Don’t know if he paid guards off to turn a blind eye, or what. But…found a way to put Murdoc in his place. Happened more than once from what I understand.”

2D paused, moistened his lips, his fingers were twitching against his thigh rapidly now. Russel’s shoulders shook slightly and 2D turned to him, only realizing then that Russel was crying silently.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” 2D responded quickly. “He doesn’t want anyone to know. You know how he is, he’s so fucking proud to a fault.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would never have done something to stir up those memories if I knew.”

“That would be betraying his trust. And I’m the only person in the bloody world that Murdoc trusts. Even I don’t know half the shit that’s happened in his life.”

“But I’d asked you earlier about…about being a little dominant with him. You didn’t warn me then—”

“I thought we were just flirting and talking about sexy stuff!” 2D snapped. “I didn’t think you were going to try to rough him up the next time we fucked! And when he consented, I thought it was what he wanted, really. I wasn’t going to out him in front of you like that.” He paused, cracked his knuckles, face crumpling. “But I should have.”

“God, I don’t know how I can ever make this up to him. Stu, really, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry,” Russel’s voice cracked and he covered his face again, trying to compose himself. This wasn’t about him, after all. “God I fucked up. I stirred up some of the worst experiences he’s ever lived through. How is he?”

“Russ, I know you,” he assured, patting his arm. “I know you weren’t trying to do anything to hurt him. I understand that. And more importantly, so does Murdoc. It’s just post-traumatic stress. A new experience that reminded him of a bad experience. These things happen. Now that me and Murdoc are letting you get closer to us, I guess we have to bite the bullet and start being more open with you. Maybe set some more clear boundaries. We just didn’t know this was going to happen. But Murdoc is better now; I talked him down, I got him more relaxed. Bumped up his appointment with the therapist I’ve been making him see. We’ll get past this. I just. Needed you to understand. So we don’t let it happen again.”

“Of course,” Russel nodded. “Of course it’ll never happen again. I want to apologize to him. When he can bear to see me.”

“Yeah. He’s doing okay now,” he repeated. His tone suggested that he didn’t want Russel seeking his boyfriend out anytime soon. “I’ve seen him have meltdowns and full-blown panic attacks before, so I knew what to do. He’s got a lot of PTSD honestly; I’ve seen totally arbitrary things set him off so bad. It’s not just Tijuana, stuff from his childhood triggers panic in him too, and sometimes there’s no way to know what’s going to set it off. I don’t know if he’ll want to talk to you right away, but I’ll let him know you want to speak with him. He’s just…a very proud person, y’know? It’s hard for him to handle this kind of stuff. There’s limits to what he can take.”

“And I pushed him way beyond the limit.” Russel sighed.

“But it’s not like you were trying to upset him,” he stressed that part. It was almost frustrating for Russel to be patronized when he was the one who had messed up. “He thought he could take it in stride.” The taller man pushed himself up off the bed. “I’m going to go check on him. Please Russ, don’t take it personally if he wants to avoid you for a while. He’s not mad or anything.”

“He has every right to be mad and every right to avoid me,” the drummer answered. 

“But it’s not that. It’s his pride. It’s so fucked up to say, but he’s ashamed that you saw him that way. So don’t be hurt by that. Just tread with caution if you bump into him.”

“Got it.”

2D hesitated, looking both like he wanted to stay and reassure Russel that things were okay, and like he wanted to get away from the tension as soon as possible. Russel wondered vaguely if they were supposed to hug or something. But that didn’t feel right, so instead he waved to the man. “Thanks for coming to talk to me.”

“Sure thing, mate.”

With 2D gone, Russel laid back on his bed and practiced some deep breathing exercises Noodle had taught him to help calm the nervous system. He couldn’t believe it. He’d hurt Murdoc in the most intimate, emotional way possible. It felt like a nightmare come true. Suddenly, he remembered all of Murdoc’s little quirks during intimacy. Every time the man had tensed or flinched when Russel had suddenly grabbed and kissed him. How many of those times had he been burying an instinctive reaction to flee? The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt.

\--

The next few days were challenging. Russel hardly left his room, choosing instead to mix music and work on his home-built Donca-Matic. Time crept by, it crisped around the edges. All he wanted was to seek Murdoc out and apologize to him, and have to fight that urge and instead live in self-imposed isolation was demoralizing. But he deserved it; he knew that much for certain.

It was a surprise when there was a knock on his door one morning and he opened it to find Murdoc. 

“Oh my god. Hi,” despite the fact that he had been rehearsing what to say for days, Russel’s mind went blank. “Do you want to come in? I’m sorry, just come on in. Unless you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

“I’ll come in, thanks,” Murdoc responded evenly, breezing past the drummer and making a bee-line for the computer chair. “Meant to swing by sooner, but I’ve kind of lost track of time.” He plopped down into the chair and rotated it to face Russel, who sat at the foot of his bed. Murdoc watched him take a seat, scratched his ankle, fiddled with but did not actually light a cigarette that he plucked from his back pocket.

“Look, let me cut to the chase,” Russel said. “2D filled me in briefly. I know that my sudden, aggressive advances triggered a lot of anxiety and a lot of horrible memories for you. I’m so sorry, Murdoc. Truly, words do not do justice to how sorry I am for hurting you.” 

“You didn’t hurt me,” Murdoc mumbled. “Someone else did. You just reminded me, with some of your word choice and how quickly you were moving with physical stuff,” he shrugged, fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking vaguely frustrated. “It’s all in my head, it’s so damn complicated to explain, and I stink at this shite.”

The drummer winced. “Yeah. I didn’t ever intend for things to go to such a horrible place. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you—”

“Russ, you don’t have to make anything up to me, it was a mistake.” Murdoc cut him off, but his voice was weak. It was like he was measuring each word to make sure that he didn’t let too much emotion slip out. “I came here to set things straight with you, so if you want to make things up to me so bad, then just give me a second chance.”

Now Russel went from uncomfortable to confused. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, that was horrible. First I didn’t want you to think I was some sort of pussy for not letting you stick it in me—” Russel made a look of distaste at his offensive word choice—“so I wanted to show you that I could take it as readily as I give it. And then I didn’t want to tell you to slow down, and then I got caught up in my own bloody head before I could even realize what was happening and suddenly it wasn’t fun anymore,” he was just rambling, Russel realized, speaking faster and faster in his nervous state. “And then it was out of control. So let’s pretend it never happened and try again. Not right now, obviously, but at some point. I won’t let that happen again.”

Russel stood up and strode over to Murdoc, who boldly looked up into his eyes. “Are you seriously trying to imply what I think you’re implying? That I’m just going to brush this under the rug and go back to sleeping with you like I never caused a nervous breakdown, and try fucking you again? Murdoc, what the fuck? You’re not just a sex toy to me. You realize that, don’t you?”

Murdoc hesitated. “I know,” he finally managed to say. “It’s just…I can be better. I am better.”

“You think you need to prove to me that you’ve moved past the horrible things that happened in Mexico?” he asked. The bassist didn’t answer, he just looked off into space. “Because I don’t need your proof. I can see that in how brave you are, Murdoc. In how you get up every day and run this band ragged with interviews, tours, jam sessions and recording with guest artists. I know you’re stronger every day when you have the courage to lead Gorillaz and make the world see you for the rock star you were always born to be, no matter how much shit life has thrown at you—”

“Russel—”

“Maybe you feel like you have to prove it to yourself, but you are so strong and brave, Murdoc. The more I learn about you, the more I’m in awe of how much you’ve overcome.”

Russel stopped when he realized that Murdoc’s eyes were damp with unshed tears.

“You ponce,” he whispered. “Stop saying such nice things about me.”

“Murdoc? Can I give you a hug?”

The smaller man nodded, and Russel stepped forward, wrapping his strong arms around his friend and holding him close and a few more tears slipped out of Murdoc’s eyes and he shook ever so slightly. After a minute, Murdoc composed himself and simply leaned in to the drummer. He didn’t hug back, but he pressed against Russel’s warm, soft body, wordlessly craving comfort that he could never ask for. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” the taller man repeated. “I will never stop trying to make it up to you for what I did to scare you. To make sure you feel safe. Murdoc…”

“I know Russ,” he whispered, voice still raspy. “I trust you. I really do.”

Those words brought a flood of guilt, affection, and heartache up through Russel’s nervous system, and he felt his heart clench as his throat tightened. “That’s why we need to end this.”

Murdoc pulled out of his grasp, and Russel let him go. “What? You mean the friends with benefits thing?”

“Yes.”

“No way! Russel that was a fluke, but I like sleeping with you and so does Stu. Don’t be rash.”

“I’m not,” he said. “But we have secrets that we keep from each other, and I think that sex without openness and conversation is dangerous.”

“That’s not true! Stu and I—”

“You might not be out publicly, but you and Stu are dating, Murdoc. You two make it work because you talk things out, you spend time together working to make your relationship function. I just stepped in and started messing with the two of you in vulnerable states, and I see now that that was a mistake. It was a lot of fun, but it was a mistake.”

“Russel, everything we’ve ever done with you has been consensual. You didn’t fucking—it’s not like that. You didn’t do that.”

Seeing how Murdoc fought him only made the decision harder, but he used every ounce of will to keep his composure, to remain immovable in front of the bassist. “I know, but you mean too much to me, Muds. I can’t risk hurting either of you like this again.” 

Murdoc pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Stuart right now. Let’s all talk about this—” Russel gently placed his hand over the bassist’s, pushing his phone closed. 

“My decision is final,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, Murdoc, but my mind is made up.”


	9. Reparation

The following weeks were brutal. Russel did all he could to steer clear of 2D and Murdoc despite wanting nothing more than to hold them closer than ever, to go out of his way to ensure Murdoc felt safe and cared for and happy. He isolated himself, only occasionally interacting with the band to record music. It was easier when guest artists came around. Shaun Ryder and MF Doom were particularly fun to record with, and De La Soul contributed so much more than just vocals to “Feel Good Inc.” Those times were good, they felt real, and Russel didn’t worry about the absence of spooky spirits in his head, or how much it ached to be creating music without Del, or how Murdoc’s eyes always looked several feet to the right or left whenever he directed any words at the drummer.

When it was just the four of them recording, it was harder to pretend he was okay. Murdoc and 2D seemed back to their normal selves, with Murdoc barking orders and complaining about Noodle’s guitar playing, showing up sometimes dressed like the goth he was in black jeans and a dark gray sweater, other times attending recording sessions in nothing but his Cuban heels, a dirty pair of underwear, and his cape. 

Russel wondered if he was trying to send some sort of message when he walked around nearly nude, exposing himself so bravely like that, only to isolate himself from the other musicians around him.

His only feedback for Russel was negative. Mercurial as ever, any time he had to address the percussion in their songs, it was to tell Russel that he was too slow and needed to wake up, or to quiet down, his toms were giving him a bloody headache and would it kill him to stay in-time?

At first, Russel blamed himself for messing up so much: he was so caught up in his own anxieties that it was affecting his playing. But after a while, Noodle began to defend Russel, and then 2D suggested Murdoc should ease off the criticism too. The more negative feedback he got, the more Russel realized Murdoc was simply lobbing snippy comments at him under the guise of keeping their recording sessions on track.

He was angry at Russel, clearly, and refusing to keep his temper to himself. However, not looking for a fight, the drummer could only take it, muttering that he’d make sure his snares were tuned, or to pay attention to the change in time at the reprise.

As days ebbed into weeks, Russel began to accept that he would have to adjust to this new loneliness. That respite he’d had with 2D and Murdoc had been just that: a temporary rapture for him to feel sexy and wanted, a time for him to let loose and enjoy his friends without any complications. But that time had come to a close, and all there was left to do was move on, adapt to the fact that this was his life now, and that his bandmates had never been his in the first place. If Murdoc was taking the end of their sexual relationship like a rejection and perceiving him as an adversary, all he could do was wait the hostility out until the bassist’s anger subsided. 

It’s not like he had ever wanted to claim Murdoc or 2D as his own, to date them and insert himself into their relationship. At least, that’s not what he’d gone in intending to do. The more he thought about it, the more their sudden rupture felt like a break-up. And that led to a whole new layer of guilt because he had been selfish enough to enter their innermost circle and expect them to give him whatever he wanted. He’d demanded Murdoc be more open with him, not keep secrets. Making suggestions like he was their boyfriend telling them how to improve what they had. Then how had he reinforced his suggestion? By pushing the bassist beyond his limits with no conversations beforehand, just a little foreplay and then an aggressive move that tore open a deep scar and brought on emotions no one should have to feel. When he looked at it that way, Murdoc had every right to be cruel to him.

These were the thoughts Russel was lost in one night about a month and a half since ending things abruptly with his friends when he realized there was no way he was going to fall asleep. Guilt and grief battled in his mind, and he leaned over into his bedside drawer, pulling out the gold chain Del had gifted him so many years before when he was young and full of hope instead of bullets. 

Running his fingers over the cool metal, he looked at the faint light the chain gave off in the darkened room.

“What have I done, Del?” he whispered. “And what do I need to do?”

Nobody answered. Of course nobody answered. Del was dead, and the Grim Reaper had taken his soul to the underworld, or the afterlife, or heaven, or wherever Del was that they could no longer communicate, no matter how deep their spiritual connection had once been.

He set the chain down on the bedside table, imaging that he could see the reflection of Del, alive and youthful and so damn impossible to satisfy, looking back at him. But it was only an illusion, wishful thinking. For the first time in a long time, he felt afraid of just how lonely life could be. And emptiness so vast it hurt. 

Realizing that neither sleep nor revelations were forthcoming, he was struck with a craving for food. Nothing in particular, but eating had always been a way he combatted stress and anxiety. For a half a second, he fought the urge, trying to rationalize that he wasn’t really hungry, but that reasoning was abandoned and he found himself getting out of bed and heading down the hall.

Russel had always struggled with a tendency to eat too much, and when his mental health took turns for the worse, it tended to lead to overeating. That in turn led to self-consciousness and guilt over the weight gain, which further stressed him out. The vicious cycle was one of many that he’d learned was nothing he’d ever overcome completely. 

Making his way down the hall and towards the kitchen, he noticed the blue light of the television coming out of the main living room favored by the whole band to watch movies late into the night. Russel slowed down, conscious not to make any noise as he approached the room lest someone had fallen asleep in front of the TV, as 2D was especially prone to doing.

He was almost to the room when Murdoc’s voice rumbled out, making the drummer freeze in his tracks.

“You haven’t fallen asleep yet, have you?”

“No, no, still enjoying the movie,” 2D’s voice responded. “Why, are you bored?”

“I’m always bored by these slasher flicks, luv.”

Russel stood there, enjoying the sound of their sleepy voices as they spent time together, assuming they had Kong to themselves in the dead of night. It was soothing to hear them, to imagine he was there on the couch with them, bantering and cuddling against them. How fucked up he had become, he realized, that he was standing behind a wall and eavesdropping, projecting himself into their relationship just because he’d started to get a little too close too fast.

“At least this is comfy though, right?”

Murdoc’s chuckle was a low gravelly rumble. “I’ll never complain about spending time with you like this, bluebird. Don’t worry. Time like this is precious.”

“Hey Muds? There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. And if you’re not enjoying the movie anyway…” The singer paused, and it took a moment for him to get his thoughts together to verbalize them. “D’you ever think that when we were…with Russel…it put any stress on our relationship?”

Russel’s heart skipped at the sound of his name, and he leaned in closer, palms starting to sweat with dread. 2D’s voice was so soft, nervous. This was the exact thing that Russel had wanted to avoid when getting involved with the two of them. If 2D was bringing it up, did it mean that they’d begun to feel he was coming between them?

Murdoc was silent for a moment, and the drummer imagined he might be wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, or kissing his temple maybe. “No,” he answered at length. “I really liked fooling around with him, but it didn’t change how I feel about you. You believe me right? Like, the sex was great. I’ve always loved three-ways, though I’ve never had one with two other men. You really helped me knock that one off my bucket list. I guess getting to slog around with Russ more often was a riot too, but it didn’t change how I feel for you…sexually or um, you know. Other.”

“Muds, you promised to try to use words more when we talk about feelings.”

The older man sighed, clearly annoyed. When he spoke again, his voice was more nasally, not as gentle as it had been a moment ago. As he revealed his inner feelings, he was quick to slip into his angry affectation. “ _Fine_. You still turn me on, Stu. You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to fuck exclusively. And sleeping with Russ didn’t change that. I still want to be with you exclusively. For everything that entails. I uh…fuck this is stupid.”

“No,” 2D argued. “Go on, I’m really happy to hear you saying what you’re saying.”

“I feel the same way emotionally. I still want to be like this with you, bluebird. More than anything. And having someone else touching my body didn’t change that I wouldn’t talk about stupid shite like this with anyone else but you. Happy?”

“Yeah,” and Russel practically melted at how he could hear the smile in the younger man’s voice. “I’m very happy to hear that. I feel the same way. I guess I just wanted to make sure since everything that happened…”

“I’m never going to live that down,” the bassist groaned. “I cocked up so bad with poor Lardass. He probably hates me now.”

“Russ definitely doesn’t hate you, Muds. I think he was just sad and scared from what happened. But you could stand to be a little nicer to him. He doesn’t deserve the heat you’re giving him.”

He was practically nodding in agreement at 2D’s words, wishing he could walk into the room and assure Murdoc himself that the bassist had completely misconstrued what had happened.

“Are you mad that I ruined it for us?” Murdoc ignored 2D’s criticism of his behavior completely. 

Again there was a pause in their speech, and Russel could only imagine that 2D was stroking the older man’s hair, maybe guiding his face up so their eyes could meet, as Murdoc tended to look down at his hands when he was uncomfortable. “Of course not,” 2D said after a moment. “Murdoc, none of us will ever be mad for your skittishness. What happened wasn’t your fault. I’ll keep saying that ‘till you believe me.”

Russel pressed his forehead against the cool wall, closing his eyes. His fingertips were shaking slightly, and despite years of therapy, he was completely unable to name the emotions coursing through him at the moment. He didn’t have words, only flashes of colors behind his eyes and static in his ears. On the one hand, it was a huge relief to hear that they didn’t hate him, that his presence hadn’t affected their relationship negatively. But to hear that Murdoc was still blaming himself for everything hurt, especially since he didn’t know how he could change that. Helping Murdoc overcome his past traumas was something the drummer so desperately wanted to do, but it was not his place. 

“I miss him,” it was Murdoc’s voice, and Russel felt tears sting the backs of his eyes. “I won’t lie about that. It was fun, and I liked his company. We’ve known Russ for how many years? And it felt like we were finally becoming friends. Now I don’t know how to get that back. Snapping at him, it’s just because I’m afraid. When he looks at me with that fucking _compassion_ in his eyes…” he cleared his throat. “I just don’t know what he sees. And it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Since we’re admitting things, I miss him too. It’s not your fault, but I really do,” the singer agreed. “I know what you mean. We were a good match when we were between the sheets with nothing to worry about but feeling good and having fun. But if this is how it has to be to protect you Murdoc, then I accept it. I’ll do anything to protect you. I love you.”

“I know,” Murdoc said, barely above a whisper.

“And it’s okay, you don’t have to say it back. I know these things are hard to talk about. I don’t know if I’m making any sense when it’s this late at night, heh. If you want we could smoke or watch more movie or something. Didn’t mean to open this can of worms so late at night.”

Murdoc make a noise between a snort and a chuckle, some flow of air from his busted nose. “Satan Almighty, what the hell did I ever do to deserve you, Stuart?”

“You give really good head, Muds,” he answered, dead serious.

And as suddenly as they had been bearing their hearts to one another, they were laughing, and Russel heard the unmistakable sound of a bong being lit up. Moments later, the telltale smell of marijuana spilled out of the room, and their discussion turned to the merits of road-head versus its deadly consequences. The drummer knew it was time for him to leave. He never did get into the kitchen, instead turning and quietly making his way back to his bedroom, midnight snacking forgotten. He had a lot to think about, and he needed hours to mull over everything.

One thing was for sure: he needed to patch up his friendship with his bandmates.

The next day, he was up early and energized. Seldom did Russel feel prepared to tackle the day, but today he was downright eager. As he washed his room pulled open the blinds and let the (weak) sunlight in, he felt himself regaining his spirit. Del’s gold chain glimmered against his neck, warm against his skin. By noon, his room was dusted, vacuumed, and neater than the day he’d moved in. He spent the afternoon washing his sheets, carefully pouring over his movie collection, and selecting a few of his all-time favorites. Lastly, he made sure that their pantry was stocked, taking a quick inventory of necessities they would need to buy soon and leaving his notes on the fridge for easy access next time they decided to go food shopping as a family.

It was when he pulled everything out of his sock drawer and began rearranging socks alphabetically by brand that he knew he was procrastinating the thing he needed to do and also feared most.

Psyching himself up with an old mixed-tape he’d listened to back in Brooklyn, he ran over what he was going to say a few more times, and then he made his way to 2D’s room.

The singer answered after a few knocks and looked surprised to see Russel. “Hey, mate,” he smiled, but he also looked a little guarded, and Russel immediately knew that the singer assumed he was there to try to get more information about Murdoc. “What’s up?”

“I had a proposition for you. Murdoc too, if he’s around.”

“He’s not,” the singer frowned. “He had a meeting with Jamie and Damon this afternoon, but he should be back pretty soon since he usually storms out on Jamie.”

“Oh,” already facing a challenge he wasn’t prepared for, Russel could feel his confidence wavering. “If you want to call or text me when he gets back then, that would be fine. We can talk when he gets here…”

“What are you proposing?” the singer asked, and it was the first time that he’d ever been so closed off around Russel, treating him like a seedy salesman just waiting to convince him to sign his soul away. It’s not that 2D had taken the decision to end their hooking up too badly. He’d hugged Russel tight at the time, said that he was sad to see their liaison come to an end, and repeated over and over again that he understood, taking it a lot better than Murdoc had. 

However, he’d also been guarded since then, perceiving Murdoc’s discomfort and navigating between his boyfriend’s trauma and temperamental flare-ups and his friendship with Russel. Needless to say, their friendship had taken a brunt of the struggle. So Russel tried not to take it to heart the way 2D analyzed him, reminding himself he’d have done the same thing for a loved one.

“Nothing that will hurt Murdoc, I promise,” he said. “And I really can’t stress that enough. Dee, I know we said that what happened is all in the past now, but I haven’t been able to shake this guilt and this sadness since things ended so terribly.”

“Russ, I appreciate that, but I think things happen for a reason, and I don’t think we should talk about it any more with Muds, okay?”

The drummer had to admire how fiercely 2D was defending Murdoc. His pupil-less eyes made his expression nearly unreadable. “I know. I just…wanted to ask you two to hang out with me tonight as friends, okay? Maybe watch some movies or something. I can handle us not being fuck buddies, but not being friends is really tough. We said we’d try to go back to normal, and you can’t deny that we’ve failed miserably. Murdoc’s been at my throat when he’s not pretending I don’t exist and it _hurts_. I want to try to make things right.”

The taller man pushed his bangs out of his face, brows knitting together and lines on his forehead aging him. “I miss your friendship too,” he finally said. “But I’m still not sure about this.”

“Of course. Can I at least ask Muds when he gets back home?” 

He could see the singer fighting a battle in his mind, but ultimately he nodded. “Yeah, I guess Murdoc’s an adult and he can decide for himself whether or not he wants to spend time with you. But I want to be with him, and if either of us think he’s starting to get antsy, I think we should give him space, got it?”

“Yes, Dee, I would never object to that.” He smiled. “Thanks.”

“So you’re planning like a movie night then? Can we watch some zombie flicks?” 2D’s interest had been piqued clearly. “Is Noodle gonna join us?”

“If you want to watch zombie movies, sure. I also planned some fun stuff to watch. Just classic comedies and stuff like that. Make us laugh, have a good time. I hadn’t planned on Noodle joining us just in case we slip up and say something. She’s really perceptive.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She is. Though I wouldn’t mind the four of us doing something as a family sometime soon. That shopping trip and dinner that time was nice.” For the first time, 2D opened the door to his bedroom all the way. “Hey, Russ. While we wait for Muds, you wanna play on my Play Station with me? It’s really fun, but playing with Murdoc’s kind of boring ‘cause he’s terrible.”

The drummer lit up. “I’d love nothing more than to kick your ass.”

For the next hour and a half, they didn’t talk about the past or about sex or about Murdoc at all. Conversation stayed light and they caught each other up on what comic books they’d been reading, how 2D’s family was doing back in Crawley, what taxidermy projects Russel had been busying himself with. In what felt like no time at all, 2D’s phone was buzzing.

“It’s Murdoc,” he said, picking the phone up and smiling. “He’s back.”

Russel glanced at the phone and chuckled. Although Murdoc generally preferred calling to texting, he had simply sent the words _CUM C ME_ in all caps. Cute, Russel thought, to imagine Murdoc coming home and immediately texting his boyfriend, lonely and eager for company, yet as demanding as ever. These glimpses into his inner mind and his softer side were definitely what drew Russel in.

At 2D’s urging, Russel went with him to the Winnebago to invite the bassist to the night’s festivities. 2D didn’t knock, simply opened the Winnie’s door and clambered up the steps, gripping the handrail tight to compensate for his clumsiness and tendency to trip on stair cases.

“Russel is here with me,” he warned. “You’d better be decent.”

“I am,” Murdoc responded from his bed. He let the opportunity to comment on how Russel had seen him nude in the past go unmentioned.

Russel followed 2D tentatively into the narrow space that reeked of spilled alcohol and weed. He watched the singer flop onto the bassist’s bed, curling up beside him without even kicking his sneakers off. Murdoc was shirtless, but had his pants and boots on, and his upside down cross gleamed against his chest. He lit a cigarette and looked at Russel, aloof.

The drummer had not been in the Winnebago in ages, well before they’d started fucking.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, tubby?” The bassist drawled.

“Well,” Russel hesitated, but 2D was trying to bum Murdoc’s cigarette and the bassist was holding it away from him, not in the mood to share. He wasn’t going to get any help from the singer, apparently. “I miss you. Our friendship. It’s become nonexistent lately and I wanted to know if you and Dee would join me for a movie night. Tonight. Or, any night really.”

“A movie night?” he scoffed, relinquished his cigarette to 2D after taking a pull from it. “What are we, in primary school?”

“Oh come on Muds, it’s me, you don’t have to act like you’re too cool for everything,” he answered, a tad defensively. He hadn’t expected Murdoc to be in full-blown Asshole Mode now that the three of them were alone. Surely it was a defense mechanism to quell anxiety, but it was still abrasive as hell to deal with, and Russel was beginning to wear down.

“I _am_ too cool for everything,” he responded petulantly. “Why should I watch a movie with you when I could spend my night out doing whatever the hell I want?”

“Muds,” 2D murmured beside him. “Could be fun. I miss hanging out with Russ. Remember how we mentioned you’ve been a little harsh lately?”

“Look,” the drummer held up his hands. “I’m not trying to start anything and to be clear, I don’t have any ulterior motives. I’m not trying to lure you back into anything you don’t want to do—”

“Lure me back? _You’re_ the one who dumped _us!”_

__

“Muds, just let Russel talk for two seconds without interrupting.”

“Fuck off, Dents, the grown-ups are talking,” Murdoc snapped, and immediately looked regretful, turning to the singer and leaning in just as 2D pulled away from him. “Wait, Stu, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re so horrible when you’re wounded,” the younger man murmured, getting off the bed and stalking over to the opposite side of the room, still smoking the bassist’s cigarette. “Just keep your mouth shut and let Russel speak. Learn to listen, for god’s sake Muds. It’s one step forward and two steps back with you.”

Murdoc visible deflated for a moment, then his dark eyes darted between the drummer and singer like a caged animal. “Fine,” he answered sharply. “So, boy’s night in? We painting our nails and watching romcoms?”

Russel shifted his weight from foot to foot, processing. It was the closest to a couples’s fight he’d ever seen between the two men, and it hurt that he was the cause of it. They had always seemed so calm and happy around him when they were in 2D’s bedroom. Two care-free versions of the bandmates he’d come to know and love. Like they had stepped foot into an oasis, a sanctuary. Seeing them snap at each other so brutally was a reminder that their relationship had not smoothed all of their edges: Murdoc’s defensive persona was still intact and as toxic as ever, and 2D still fell victim to it.

Realizing he was supposed to speak and had been lost in his own head, just shrugged, eyeing an empty Jameson bottle by his feet and kicking it lightly. “No. I mean…fuck. It all sounded so good in my head when I planned this out.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He desperately wanted to pace, but the confined space of the Winnie left that out of the question. “I’ve been missing you and Stu. Not in a dirty way just, I miss spending time with you. Plus you’ve been an ass to me lately, and I think it’s just because you’re hurting. So I wanted to put something together so just the three of us could hang out again. Maybe listen to music and get high like old times, or watch movies, hell, I could cook a meal for you if you wanna eat. This is an olive branch, okay? ‘Cause you can’t deny that things have been awkward between us, and I want to rectify that.”

With his hands unoccupied by a cigarette, the bassist was left to fiddle with his cross, looking down at his bed sheets thoughtfully. “Guess things have been a little ‘off’ lately.”

“I think it could be a really nice time,” 2D piped up. “My only reservation is: cooking us a meal? Watching movies in your room? This kind of sounds like a date. I trust you Russ, I do. But I wanna be super clear that this isn’t a set-up to get us back into…” he gestured vaguely with his hand. “What we were doing.”

“Absolutely not,” Russel said quickly. “I ended that for a reason. Don’t wanna hurt either of you again.”

Murdoc grunted and sank back into the pillows of his bed, stretching his legs out and taking up almost all the space on the mattress. “I hate the way you both talk about me like I’m damaged,” he said. “”Handle with Care,’ ‘Fragile,’ ‘Do Not Bend,’ I’m not a fucking package for delivery you know. I got a little spooked, sure, but come on!” As suddenly as he had reclined, he jerked up, looking back and forth between his bandmates angrily. “I’m _not_ broken. I’m here and I’m stronger than either you think, so stop talking like I’m some butterfly with broken wings or some shit. I’m Murdoc Faust _fucking_ Niccals and I deserve better!”

“You’re an amalgamation,” 2D said quietly, walking back over to the bed and offering the half-smoked cigarette to his boyfriend. Russel smiled, impressed to hear the singer using a multisyllabic word. Even Murdoc looked intrigued. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately actually. You’re an amalgamation, this big conglomerate rock of all different experiences and people and bands and things. And you’re stunning to look at, flecks of quartz and obsidian and other er, types of concrete and rock and stuff,” Murdoc’s expression became downright tender as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. “And sometimes, if you look at a conglomerate rock from a certain angle under certain lighting, or even if you turn a kaleidoscope a certain way, it doesn’t always look quite right, or it’s not as good as it could be. And I’m not saying you don’t look good or we don’t wanna look at that part of the rock ever! Just, the quartz and the uh, stones are the parts we want to focus on more than the concrete…yeah. I think that’s what I meant.”

“Get on with it, bluebird, before you give yourself a migraine.”

“Right. But what I’m saying is, Russ and I, we’ve both seen parts of you that few other people have seen. Like a big piece of diamond in a conglomerated—conglomerate rock. Sparkling in the sunlight and you just hold it in your hands in shock because you can’t believe you get to look at something so beautiful. Or when you turn a kaleidoscope just so and _wham!_ Greens and blues like you wouldn’t believe. That side of you is when you’re really glowing, shining your brightest. And it’s when you’re unambiguously happy. So we want to help keep that side of you exposed, rather than turning you so the concrete is exposed all the time. I think treating you delicately, it’s just because we’ve seen the best of you, and we don’t want to er, bring back the not-as-bright parts. Does that make sense? I thought it did, but now I’m confused. I think I’ve mixed metaphors.”

The bassist wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist and pulled him close, pressing his head to Stu’s chest and hugging him tight. “You were bloody brilliant, as always,” he said. 

“2D said it better than I ever could,” Russel said, not wanting to interrupt the moment, but also wanting to get out of the Winnebago to give them peace and privacy. “I don’t think you’re damaged or fragile, I just hate knowing that I caused you stress, brought back memories of a time when your life was bad. I can try to talk about it differently if it’ll help. But I just…I want this hostility to end. I want to be friends again, because I feel like I was finally getting to know you, both of you, and I don’t want to miss out being close with either of you.” He smiled at 2D. “You’re both pretty cool amalgamations.”

Murdoc put his cigarette out on an ashtray that he had definitely stolen from Hugh Hefner’s years back, keeping one arm around the singer’s torso all the while. “What a bloody emotional pow-wow this turned into. You two are a bunch of skirts.”

“All of that is to say: would you like to hang out tonight? Have some beers and laugh? I got some great flicks picked out, and I’ll even bust out some of my best vinyl.”

Murdoc looked him dead in the eye and smiled. “What the hell? Might be fun. Up for it sunshine?”

2D ruffled the bassist’s hair. “You ask like I didn’t come in here already wanting to hang out with Russ. Yes! We can be at your room at seven if that works?”

“Sure, Dee, that’s fine.”

“Well, better clear out now then, Hobbs, ‘cause that’s prime shag time, so this luscious boy and I are going to have to knock it out now instead,” Murdoc said, once again wrapping both arms around 2D and falling backwards onto the bed, easily hefting the singer off his feet and on top of him. The springs of the mattress creaked in protest, but 2D’s laughter made up for that sound.

“Right, no need to be nasty,” Russ said, a little bemused, and also a little jealous from the display. “I’ll leave you to it then. See you later.” He made his way out of the cramped Winnebago and closed the door behind him. He didn’t hear any suggestive noises coming out as he made his way back towards his room. He had a feeling there was a lot more talking than fucking going on.

“An amalgamation,” he said to himself as he headed to his room. “I’ll have to remember that one. Good pick-up line.”

\--

Their night started a little awkwardly, with both men coming it at separate times so as not to arouse Noodle’s suspicion in case she ran into any of them. Russel took the computer chair so they could share the bed, but Murdoc hung back, standing at the foot of the bed instead and smoking incessantly as he chattered nervously, telling Russel stories that he’d already heard countless times at parties and interviews. 2D sat on the bed, pouring over Russel’s extensive movie collection and looking largely underwhelmed, clearly much more interested in watching _Dawn of the Dead_ of some other zombie movie.

At Russel’s urging, they started with _Beverly Hills Cop_ because it was a comfort movie for him, and soon they began to relax a bit. At Murdoc’s request, Russel had plenty of beers on hand, and soon they were drinking and laughing, comparing Eddie Murphy’s best and worst roles, and whether he was a better actor or stand-up comedian. Gradually, Murdoc began to unwind, and soon he was lying across Russel’s bed, tucked up against 2D and asking if Russel had any of Murphy’s stand-up on VHS.

Regrettably he didn’t, so they switched to _Men in Black_ for some comedy and scifi, and were thoroughly enjoying themselves when Murdoc murmured something into 2D’s ear, and the singer held out a hand to Russel.

“Hey Russ, would it be more comfortable to join us on the bed?”

A jolt of adrenaline shot through the drummer’s gut. “What?”

The blue-haired man smiled sympathetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that as a come-on. You can cuddle with us if it’s not too weird, we’re okay with it.”

The drummer didn’t know many adult men who cuddled platonically. Then again, he couldn’t deny that the offer was sweet, and he was not opposed. Still he hesitated, Murdoc’s comfort level being his primary concern.

“Get over here, fatass,” the bassist said seeing his indecision. “Your bed is used to putting up with your weight all night; I’m sure it can handle the three of us for a few hours.”

“I don’t know if that logic carries much water, Muds,” he responded. Nonetheless, he smiled and sat down on the bed, slowly bringing his legs up to recline like his two friends while they watched the movie. It was a tight squeeze, sure, but his bed was a king-size, and it was by no means uncomfortable. 2D immediately rolled into Russel’s side, still watching the television screen but snuggled against him like it was an everyday occurrence for them.

Murdoc shifted too so he could continue holding his boyfriend, passing a quick, thoughtful glance at Russel before looking back as agents K and J interrogated Frank the pug. As the movie went on, Russel eased into the closeness, wrapping an arm around 2D. There was no sexual tension as they laughed and chatted, occasionally sipping a beer. Alcohol and cigarettes aside, the night felt almost childlike in its innocence, though as he thought about it, he realized he had never really cuddled with his friends as a kid. Still, it was comfort, it was nice.

2D got to choose a movie next, offering up _The Re-Animator_ , keeping with the 80s theme they had set. By the time the movie ended, it was starting to get late, and Russel offered to play music rather than start another film if his friends weren’t up to it.

“Yeah, music would be good,” 2D agreed. “But first, you’ve prepositioned us, so we wanna preposition you.”

Russel sat up, rolling his neck and groaning in satisfaction as it cracked. “You mean proposition. And sure, what’s up?”

“This has been lovely,” Murdoc said, also sitting up so he could see the drummer clearly. “And it makes me realize just how much you care about me and Dents here. We appreciate that you really didn’t try to make any moves or talk us back into anything.”

“Man, I told you before it ain’t like that,” he said, collecting several empty beer cans off his bedside table and lobbing them into his trashcan one at a time. “I would never. I really just wanted to hang out.”

“Well,” now it was 2D who spoke up. “Murdoc and I were talking before, after you stopped by in the Winnie. We said that if tonight went well, we might want to re-evaluate some things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Russel,” Murdoc locked eyes with him, all smiles and suave gone. “Please reconsider your decision. If you’re willing to give it another shot, we’d really like you back in our bed.”

To say he was dumbfounded would be an understatement. “You lost me, Muds.”

“We want to be friends like this too,” 2D elaborated. “A hundred percent. This was fun and it’s made us both realize how much we value spending time with you. The thing is, what we had during sex was fun too. And we’ve both missed that. So if we’re all on good terms again, maybe we can tentatively try sleeping together again too. And same as last time we invited you: no pressure. You can totally say no!”

“I…I want to,” Russel admitted, and he hated how quick he was to be so honest with them. But his guard was down. “I just. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I almost hurt—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you almost hurt poor delicate Murdoc,” the bassist snapped, rolling his eyes. “Move over, sunshine, I wanna be close to Russ for a second.” He crawled over the younger man, wedging himself between 2D and Russel and grabbing the drummer’s face in both hands. “Listen here, mate, and listen good. What happened that night was a mistake. You’ve broken my nose multiple times, and I still feel safe around you and trust you more than I probably should, given all the ways you could blackmail me.”

“I wouldn’t blackmail you, Muds.”

“Aww, cheers. But seriously. If we communicate more, which is what you wanted in the first place mind you, and if we take things slow and easy, I think it could work. I’d like to do more nights like this. At the same time, I’m someone who expresses himself through his unmatched sexual prowess, and I want to share my God-given gifts with you. So what do you say? It’s very rude to turn down such an incredible opportunity, by the way.”

“You still can,” 2D quipped. “If this makes you uncomfortable.”

In response, Russel placed his large hands over Murdoc’s where they rested on his cheeks. “I’d like that very much, so long as you two are okay with it.”

Murdoc beamed at him, and Russel leaned in and kissed his crooked nose, then the fringe of dark hair over his brow. “So I guess we’re doing this again, huh? Taking it slow and just doing what feels good?”

“Yes!” 2D responded, hugging Murdoc and, by his long arms’ considerable extension, Russel too. “I’m really glad you said yes!”

“We don’t have to start tonight though, okay? I’ve had a few beers and I’m sleepy,” Russel admitted.

Murdoc snickered. “A few beers and you’re done? Cheap date. I could fuck all night long even after half a bottle of vodka. Sometimes I wonder if alcohol has an aphrodisiacal effect on me, actually—”

“Hey Muds?”

“Yeah?”

“Too much information. Now pick an album,” he smirked and hefted a crate of vinyl onto the bed, handing them to the bassist to look through as 2D laughed.

To Russel’s surprise, Murdoc chose _Revolver_ , and 2D procured a roach he’d had in his pocket for an unclear period of time. They smoked and enjoyed the music, once again falling into cuddling, this time with Murdoc happily sandwiched between both bandmates.

“Thanks for this,” 2D murmured at length as the album drew to a close and George Harrison complained about being hung up though he didn’t know why. “It’s really nice to know that we mean so much to you Russ.”

“We’re a band,” Russel responded, smoothing a few loose strands of hair from Murdoc’s fringe. “And more than that, we’re like a kind of family. I could live without the sex, but I couldn’t stand to lose both of you as friends. And I thought that’s where we were headed.”

“Well, Muds was a bit of an arse to you recently, but that would never happen. Also, why lose the sex?”

“My thoughts exactly!” the bassist said.

“We’ll definitely prioritize going slow and communicating more,” Russel pointed out.

“Obviously,” Murdoc sighed, playing with 2D’s hand and biting a particularly long nail, spitting the loose crescent-shaped tip somewhere into Russel’s sheets. “We’ll get there when we get there. For now, just enjoy the moment.”

“I can’t complain with that,” he answered, laughing when Murdoc bit at another nail, only to be swatted by his boyfriend.

“Stop being weird, babe.”

“You’re the one who gave me weed and you’re telling me not to be weird? Thought you knew me better than that.”

“And uh, this isn’t getting in the way of your relationship, right?” Russel asked, the conversation in the living room from the other night skittering through his mind. “I don’t want to come between you two.”

Murdoc pointed at Russel. “You’re for percussion and fucking,” he pointed to 2D. “He’s for vocals, keyboards, fucking, and Other. It’s that simple.”

“Yeah, Russ,” 2D agreed. “Our relationship is as strong as ever. Thanks for asking, but we already agreed before we got here that we were willing to try this again. Murdoc and I, we’re fine.”

“Then I guess we’re good to go,” he smiled to himself, leaning back into the pillows, blissfully high and with the weight of the world off of his shoulders as “I Want to Tell You” drew to an end.

 

 _I feel hung up and I don’t know why._  
_I don’t mind._  
_I could wait forever, I’ve got time._  
_I’ve got time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I have a general plot I'd like to run with, but I'm pretty open to suggestions. So if you have any particular request for what you'd like to see these three get up to, feel free to leave a comment or message me!


	10. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, sorry for the long, wait, all. In spite of all the memes on Tumblr, my mental health has been pretty awful and I've had a really hard time focusing on writing anything. Apologies if this feels choppy; I averaged around two pages at a time and finally cobbled them all together. This chapter feels pretty weak, but I'd rather postit and move on with the story instead of getting hung-up on a single chapter for two months. There's a few references in this chapter that aren't terribly important, but I've included explanations in the End Notes in case you're interested.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for all the positive feedback and kind support!! :)
> 
> This chapter is somewhat inspired by an anonymous request on Tumblr to see the boys all go out on a date together. There will be plenty more of those to come, but for now, let's at least get them out of Kong!
> 
> As ever, feel free to let me know if you have any feedback/criticism/requests/etc. My inbox is always open, and thank you again for the support! <3

Russel’s arms were starting to get sore. Nonetheless, he continued to swing them as if possessed, swelling with his cymbals and toms while his feet worked the bass drum methodically, pounding a heartbeat into “Every Planet We Reach is Dead.” 

He glanced up to see 2D, head tilted sideways at an almost unnatural angle, like a zombie or something, as his hands moved in a blur over his keyboard, dropping sometimes just one or two notes at a time, and other times bounding up and down registers, playing with a dizzying urgency that Russel didn’t know he was capable of. 

Noodle and Murdoc paced around each other like ally-cats, trading bars with no real consistency, just nodding at one another to indicate the end of a solo. Murdoc kept his head down mostly, shaking it back and forth, his fringe falling down and covering his expression. He looked ethereal when he was in a deep groove, his hands stroking El Diablo in a downright sexual fashion, his entire body occasionally rocking with a few of the rhythms he laid down. 

Noodle alternated between grinning manically and looking dead serious, jumping up and down, occasionally strutting around on top of the huge amp that Russel had installed for them a few months ago, only to jump down dramatically, sneakered feet always avoiding tripping over the myriad wires scattered around the room. With each solo she played, her mood shifted, sometimes a heroic cry to reclaim a world from the brink of loss, other times, her sound and her face become somber with the sobering loss of individualism, as she had explained the music once herself.

Russel glanced up as Noodle concluded a searing solo, only to see that she was holding up a fist, indicating they were wrapping it up. 2D brought them back to the main refrain, and they ploughed through eight more bars before ending the song, Russel fading away with a hiss of his cymbals as Noodle yanked the cord out of her guitar with a mighty yell.

“What was the time?” She demanded.

Murdoc glanced at the clock over the entrance to the studio and grinned. “That was a thirty-three and a half-minute jam session.”

“Nice!” 2D almost knocked his keyboard off its stand as he threw up his hands in celebration. “Too bad we weren’t recording.”

“We couldn’t put a half hour song on the album anyway, Damon would laugh in our faces,” Russel pointed out.

“I’d punch him right in his pretty face if I ever got the chance,” Murdoc intoned. “Punching Damon Albarn is on my bucket list actually, right under sex with Celine Dion.”

“Anyway, that was straight fire,” Russel interrupted what would no doubt become a half-hour long discussion of Murdoc’s other bucket list experiences, or even worse, a comprehensive list of what celebrities he had slept with so far. Talking about music seemed like a better option. 

“Whatever mojo we lost recently, we have gained it back and then some,” Noodle said proudly. “I know a lot of people consider us to be a studio band, but I think jam sessions like this, the stuff no one else will hear, those are our finest moments. That was exquisite. Toochie, you sounded amazing.”

“Nah, Noods you stole the show with those solos!”

“Well I could not have done any of it without Murdoc to back me up; he had the building trembling!”

“I was pretty amazing,” the bassist agreed, turning to face Russel. “But I think I was just leaning on support from Russ. I could feel his beats in my bloody arteries they were so thick.” He smiled at the drummer as he said those words, and Russel felt his cheeks warm a bit. He hadn’t heard praise like that—from Murdoc of all people—in ages. 

“Yes, Russel was amazing!” Noodle jumped in before he could articulate an answer.

“Russ keeps this band together for sure,” 2D agreed. “We ain’t got our beats without our bass drum.”

Russel could only look down at his lap and smile. “Shucks, guys. I thought we all sounded pretty good.”

The fact was, they hadn’t recorded a single thing for _Demon Days_ at all. The entire day had been a series of covering oldies (including the entirety of _The White Album_ ) and a few of their own songs with extended solos. There were currently no major deadlines looming, no frantic calls from Jamie about needing emergency funds to help create music videos, no stress to pack and travel to some remote location to film said annoying music videos. It was a rare day of playtime for the four of them to connect with what held them together, and it was like breathing fresh, clean air.

Except that it was nothing like that because 2D and Murdoc had been smoking like chimneys throughout most of the day, but Russel could overlook that for once, and Noodle hardly seemed to mind. Still, when they were all plugged in and facing one another with no outside forces in the way, Noodle was right: that was there the true magic happened, and where they found the inspiration to create still more music with one another. Days like these brought Russel back to when he’d first joined the band, when he could find 2D and Murdoc in the recording studio almost every hour of the day, tripping over pages of lyrics and cheat sheets for chord progressions. Days like these reminded him of just how much hard work each one of them put into making their success possible.

“I don’t think we’re going to top that; what say we call it a day? My fingers are killing me,” Murdoc suggested, setting El Diablo down and looking at his raw hands in disgust.

“I have offered you a pick countless times before,” Noodle chastised. “At least use the callus cream I purchased for you in Japan. It contains seaweed; it will help nourish your skin.”

He smirked at her. “That’s supposed to be used to treat callouses? Luv, I’ve been using that lotion for other purposes—”

“Ew! Stop being a dirty pervert!” She dove behind Russel, who gave the bassist a warning look.

But in spite of their playful teasing, they had been getting along better than ever. Russel ruffled the teen’s hair and suggested they order something for dinner, and the band headed upstairs, Noodle hitching a ride on the drummer’s shoulders.

Patching things up with 2D and Murdoc had worked wonders. While they hadn’t consummated their re-established relationship, Russel found himself in no rush to. Several times, he had instead spent time with them, flirting for sure, but playing video games or even trading books back and forth. It was nice to feel calm around them once again, to see that both men were actively seeking to rebuild their trust. And it was reassuring as hell to see that they too were so happy to be spending time with him again. 

2D had taken to leaving little tokens around for the drummer. Maybe it was his way of apologizing for having been so distant after their rupture. Nothing much: some CDs that he had borrowed ages ago and forgotten to return, an assortment of DC comics from the eighties: a few times he even brought Russel a bottle of soda or a donut from a nearby bakery. Every little act of kindness was as random as it was pointless, but that made it a purely 2D gesture. It was kindness that expected no reciprocation: a gift that he simply took pleasure in delivering for the drummer to later find.

Murdoc’s acceptance of Russel was more subtle, more complicated. One night recently, Russel had found himself alone with the bassist, the older man slumped on the couch and leaning against him, an unfinished book of Edgar Allan Poe’s poems in his lap. The drummer had simply watched Murdoc sleep for what felt like ages, taking in the bags under his eyes, the sheen of his hair, still glossy and thick despite terrible diet and an endless parade of drugs through his system. Russel had pulled Murdoc closer, felt the boniness of his shoulders, saw the chipped black nail polish on his fingers, the way even in his sleep, he cradled the borrowed book carefully so as not to damage the spine. That night, Russel had pressed his lips to Murdoc’s temple and held them there awhile, taking in his smell and the warmth of his body. Later on, he’d carried the smaller man to bed, and Murdoc had only woken up as he was set down, grabbing the collar of Russel’s shirt and yanking him into a soft, sleepy kiss that had made the younger man’s knees weak because fuck, he had really thought he had Murdoc figured out and in moments like this, he felt so caught off guard by this softer side of the man. It almost frightened him how good it felt to be surprised by someone he thought he knew.

“Oy Russ,” it was the bassist’s voice that drew him out of his recollections as they gathered in the kitchen, ordering pizza. “You fancy a drink with Dents and me after we eat?”

“Huh?” Russel gently lowered Noodle off his shoulders so she could analyze the take-out menu and decide what she wanted on their pizza. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. You wanna go out tonight?”

“Yeah, why not? When’s the last time we all tied one on together?”

Russel immediately looked down at the teenager beside him. 

“Well we don’t have to get crazy or stay out for too long,” 2D was quick to add. “Just a couple of drinks. Noodle can stay home and watch her anime—”

“I told you, Toochie,” she sighed. “I’m into French films now. English anime fans fetishize my heritage and I am taking a break from interacting with that sort of negativity—”

“Right, so she can stay home and watch _Amélie_ or something and we’ll be back before midnight. What do you say?”

As it always was with the two of them, Russel saw two options. He could agree to their terms and worry about Noodle, potentially isolating her further as they became caught up in their little game, or he could decline and leave them feeling miffed. What Russel truly wanted to do was often left off the table. With three needy bandmates (which Noodle got a pass for being since she was a child), he often had to figure out how to navigate opportunities in a way that would benefit all three of them, and then sort out his own desires retroactively. 

So it surprised him when Noodle tugged the sleeve of his shirt, perhaps seeing on his face that he was calculating. “Go,” she said, smiling up at him, and he could make out her pretty eyes twinkling beneath her fringe of unbrushed hair. “You never do something fun just for the sake of having fun. We had an amazing day; go celebrate the way I know men like to celebrate.”

“Babygirl,” he said, “you’re so thoughtful. But I don’t want you to be left all alone. Dee and Muds can go, and I’ll stay with you, how’s that?”

She shook her head. “They specifically invited you,” she said. “You fail to realize how much your presence is appreciated. They invited you because both of your friends would have a better time at a club or a bar with you there beside them. Perhaps you cannot perceive your own magnetic presence, but it is felt by all of us.”

“Wow,” Murdoc snorted. “Noodle’s a lot smarter than me. What she said, Tubby. Well, disregard all that sentimental crap. I want you to come along because someone your size is hard to get drunk, which means I can get as wasted as I want to be and you can drive me home.”

“Are you not wasted right now?” Noodle asked.

“I’m sorry, are you the drinking police, pet? D’you need to see my permit?” He mocked fishing around in his pockets for ID, and when he offered an empty palm, she playfully kicked his hard, not hard enough to hurt. They both giggled.

“So it’s agreed that Russ will come with us tonight, Noods will hold down the fort, and we’re getting one meat-lovers pizza, one half-anchovy and olive, half-anchovy and pineapple, and one vegetable with extra onions?” 2D, the hero of the evening, came in with uncharacteristic pragmatism.

“Mm, yes, _oui_ , and you mean to tell me you haven’t ordered yet? Hop to it, 2D!”

So it was decided.

A few hours later, Russel was satisfied with a full belly and had dolled himself up just a bit, shaving, splashing some cologne on, and changing into a collared shirt. 2D was similarly looking cleaner and brighter when they met near the garage, though when Murdoc joined them, he was in his usual all-black ensemble, clothes still wrinkled and day-old.

“Trust me,” he said as he unlocked the Geep and waited for them to get settled. “Where we’re going, it’s not about what you wear, it’s about _attitude_. I’m mates with the guy who owns this bar, so trust me Russel, you can be comfortable and be yourself here. Should any fans come up and start giving you a hard time or pissing you off, just let me know and I’ll get them kicked out.”

“When you say ‘mates,’ do you mean you two are actually friendly with one another, or that you have some sort of demonic contract or illegal dealings with him that I should know about?” Russel asked, holding onto the headrest in front of him as Murdoc gunned it and they tore off at a dizzying speed through the country.

“Don’t worry,” 2D answered for his boyfriend, perhaps hoping to keep Murdoc’s focus on the road ahead of him. “I’ve been with him a few times: it’s really a nice place and Clark’s alright. This place is frequented by a lot of celebrities, so he makes a lot of cash just tending to them. Anytime overzealous fans or paparazzi come around and start ruining someone’s night, he gets them sent out.”

“A paparazzi-free bar? I have to admit,” Russel said, “that does sound pretty nice.”

The aptly-named _Clam_ turned out to be pretty nice after all. Although it looked like a small, locals-only dive on the outside, it turned out that the cramped, dimly-lit bar visible from the front window was just a façade, and though a doorway, Russel beheld a large, clean, modern-looking paradise with an insane selection of top-shelf liquors, two gorgeous lounge areas, and a modest dance floor where a group of young people were currently dancing and giggling.

The drummer grinned and patted Murdoc’s shoulder. “Good job, Muds.”

“Thank me by buying me a drink,” he smirked.

They spent the next half hour doing just that, chatting about their day’s musical accomplishments while enjoying superbly-mixed cocktails. In the time that it took Russel to enjoy half of his Mai Tai, Murdoc had thrown back two Manhattans like they were glasses of water. Relaxed and cheerful, he began glancing more and more at the dance floor, and Russel could only assume he was eyeing the girls in tight dresses. It was a surprise then when he asked if either of them wanted to dance with him.

“Honestly didn’t think you could,” Russel admitted. “You usually stay glued to the bar anytime we’re out.”

The shorter man scoffed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t dance. Need me to prove it to you? C’mon, luv, dance with me.”

2D played with the straw of his daiquiri. “You sure, Muds?”

“Sure I’m sure! Gotta prove Russel that I can gyrate as good as anyone else out there!” And with that, he pushed himself back from the bar and practically skipped over to the dance floor, smiling and nodding acknowledgment to the other dancers as he approached them.

2D laughed softly through his nose. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, Dee. We’re here to have a good time. Humor the old man. I’ll be enjoying the view.” 

So with that, 2D headed over, with significantly less swagger but still looking quite pleased with himself. As soon as he drew close, Murdoc mimed swinging a lasso and roping 2D towards him, and the younger man threw his head back in laughter that Russel imagined he could hear in spite of the loud music on the other end of the room. As soon as the singer stood before the bassist, they shared twin smiles for a few moments before Murdoc leaned up and kissed 2D right on the mouth.

Russel nearly spat out his drink. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, rushing to get up and join them. Just how drunk was Murdoc? He set his glass down and hurried across the room to them where they were now dancing together, colorful lights skittering across their bodies.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Russel demanded as he approached. It was much louder up close against the speakers, and he found that his voice did not carry over the throbbing bass. Both men gestured for him to repeat himself, and he pulled them in close. “What the hell was that, Muds? You can’t go kissing Stu out in public like that! I get that the paparazzi ain’t here, but still, someone could record it on their phone or say something.”

The bassist brushed his friend’s hand off of him and rolled his eyes. “You really don’t trust me, do you?” he asked. “I told you not to worry about it. See all these people around us? See how nobody bats an eye that there’s two celebrities in here snogging?” Russel looked around and had to admit that, save for a few curious glances, no one seemed interested in approaching them, and no one was trying to get a picture of the musicians. 

“This place is special,” Murdoc continued. “Everyone who’s here is here because they paid through the nose to be allowed in so they can party alongside the upper crust, and if they do anything to upset the owner Clark, they know they’ll have made an enemy who doesn’t play nice.”

“This place is run by criminals?” Russel asked, trying not to show how unnerved he was.

Murdoc shrugged. “They don’t like to be called that, mate. Just trust me: rent is paid for this place each month. Everything stocked on these shelves has been stocked legally. Well, most of it anyway. The bartenders and staff here? All paid well. And this joint makes its dough by insuring protection to all celebrities. David Bowie has been here, and Mick Jagger too!”

2D leaned in and giggled. “I was flirting with a girl on the dance floor here once; don’t know how true it is, but she told me Kate Winslet got so smashed here she had to be carried out by friends. You ever hear about that in any slanderous pages, Russ? Nah, ‘cause no one breathed a word. We’re safe, really.” 

As though to prove his point further, Murdoc slapped the singer’s ass, cackling when he yelped in surprise. “So stop complaining and dance with me or catch up with me at the bar, Russel-O-Muscle!”

A new song was starting to play, nothing that Russel recognized outside of being loud club music, but the bass was pretty good, and when both his friends began to move, he couldn’t resist. They cheered when he joined them, and one song turned into three, then six. They only took breaks to go gulp down a few more sips of cocktails, and before Russel knew it, he was a sweaty mess, his heart pounding and quads beginning to protest, as he hadn’t moved so much in ages.

2D and Murdoc had begun dirty dancing, standing closer with every drink they finished, till they were practically grinding on each other, hips moving together as the singer wrapped his arms around the older man’s shoulders, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Murdoc smirked, keeping one hand on one of the singer’s hips, the other swaying over his head; it wasn’t exactly a dance move, just a way of submitting to the throbbing music.

After a while, the bassist noticed Russel’s staring, and he gently detached himself from 2D, shimmying his way over to stand before the larger man.

“Share a dance with me.”

“I dunno, Murdoc,” the drummer responded, “I’m still not sure how I feel about doing this publicly—”

“That wasn’t a question,” he snapped. “It was a demand. Dance with me right now.”

Maybe it was the strong drinks. Or the slightly disorienting lights, and the way they lit up Murdoc’s face and highlighted all of his best features. Or maybe it was the fact that the bass making the entire dance floor throb was absolutely hypnotic and primal. Whatever it was, Russel inhaled deeply through his nose and held a hand out to his friend. 

Murdoc grinned, revealing his sharp teeth, and did not waste a minute sliding right up into his personal space, reaching up to rest his hands lightly on the large man’s shoulders. With nowhere else to put them, Russel let his hands settle on the bassist’s hips, which were already moving, rocking with the rhythm that had everyone there on the dance floor under some sort of spell.

They danced like that for several songs, Murdoc occasionally catching Russel’s eyes and smiling at him, and the drummer could hear the questions in each look: _can’t believe we’re doing this, huh? Are you having fun? Are you alright with this?_

He could only smile back, grateful for this side of Murdoc, the side that actually seemed to give a shit about other people’s emotions. When a new song started up, a little faster than the last, Murdoc began snapping his hips against Russel, and he gasped softly as their crotches brushed. This was beyond inappropriate. But he couldn’t help but grab the smaller man around the waist and pull him even closer. Something devilish lit up the older man’s eyes, and Murdoc reached down, placing his hands over Russel’s and guiding them to the small of his back. They danced like that for a bit, Russel enjoying running his hands up and down the man’s back, feeling the dampness of his shirt from all his sweat. He gave an experimental slip lower, giving Murdoc’s ass a quick squeeze. The bassist responded with a very deliberate thrust up against Russel’s body, and for a moment, he felt the room was spinning as alcohol and arousal clashed in his brain. 

Murdoc lifted his head to meet Russel’s eyes, and mouthed just one word: more.

How could he deny that? Continuing to move to the music as all the dozens of strangers moved around him, he reached down again, grabbing the other man by the ass and dancing dirty with him. Murdoc keened against his shoulder, a noise he felt more than heard, and once again the bassist’s hands were on his own, guiding them over his body.

Russel’s breath hitched when Murdoc unceremoniously guided Russel’s hands down the waistband of his trousers, but he obeyed, reaching down to grope the man through his pants.

His fingers didn’t find the usual briefs.

Instead, they brushed over the unmistakable softness of a satin garter. 

He pulled back, wanting to see Murdoc’s face, to confirm that he had just felt what he thought he felt. Murdoc grinned at him.

“You dirty old man,” Russel chastised, though he was grinning too. 

Whatever comeback Murdoc had, they were interrupted when 2D leaned in and asked if they wanted more drinks. Russel was much more interested in more groping, more grinding, more moremore _more_ , and he felt confident that Murdoc felt the same way.

So he was crestfallen when Murdoc looked from 2D to Russel, then shrugged. “Sure, I could do a G and T,” he spoke over the music, smirking playfully at Russel before walking away, leaving him more than a little hot and bothered. 

And just like that, Russel realized he’d just been played. Murdoc, the insatiable sex addict, had just wound him up and walked off like it was nothing.

Once he’d taken a few breaths to compose himself, he followed the other two men back at the bar, where 2D was asking if the bartender could make a good zombie, and Murdoc was taking a sip of his gin and tonic, making sure it was to his liking (“easy on the tonic. And don’t be afraid to use a lot of lime, mate; this is my primary source of vitamin C after all, har har,”).

“Russ, would you like anything?” Murdoc asked, cool as an autumn breeze as he stirred his drink. 

“Yeah, I’d like you to get your ass back out on the dance floor as soon as possible so we can finish what we started.”

“Russel really likes to dance,” 2D said cheerfully as he sipped his drink, then made a face as it was far too strong. “Sorry, think I could get a cosmo instead?”

“It’s not just that he likes to dance, Stu, he likes to dance with me,” the bassist purred, taking the zombie from his boyfriend and taking a sip himself.

“Oh,” 2D looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to look at Russel. “He’s wearing lingerie under his clothes, isn’t he? He likes to do that when we go out sometimes. He wore a bodysuit under his clothes once when he took me to a nice restaurant; the place was pretty small and these girls kept having to pass me and asked me to stand up and scoot my chair in, but I couldn’t ‘cause I’d pitched a bloody tent what would fit the whole Russian circus.”

Murdoc cackled at that. Then added, softly, surely only because he was drunk, “that was the anniversary of the day we met, that date.”

“It was?” 2D looked at him in shock, and the moment might have been touching, but then the bartender slid a hot pink cosmopolitan over, and the moment was broken, each man shaking himself out of the tender mood that had fallen over them to pursue their cocktails.

“I didn’t realize this was a thing that Murdoc does,” Russel admitted. “But it’s damn sexy and I want to dance with him some more.”

“Hmm I think I’m done dancing for tonight,” Murdoc responded, polishing off his gin and tonic and signaling for the bartender to leave the zombie, as he would finish it on 2D’s behalf.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Aw, don’t worry Russ, I’ll dance with you,” 2D offered. He couldn’t help but snort when he saw the drummer’s face. “Right, sorry. You’re just randy now and wanna feel more panties or whatever the hell this cock-tease’s wearing. Well good luck. Murdoc likes to play hot and cold.”

It was a bold move, and Russel had to admit that he’d never been engaged in such drawn-out foreplay before. They were in public for goodness sake, and he realized all he wanted was to go home and undress his infuriating bandmate. It was even sexier to hear 2D mention Murdoc’s behavior so casually, indicating that he did this sort of thing in public often, expressly to gain the upper hand over his unlucky partner. Thankfully, 2D was there to help him out, and after sipping more of his cosmopolitan, he guided Russel back to the dance floor, proving that in spite of his usual clumsiness and gangly legs, he was actually a pretty good dancer. 

They swayed, sometimes grinding, often just writhing along with the rest of the bodies to whatever the DJ turned out, and after a while, Russel had to take another break simply because he was covered in sweat. 

“One more song?” 2D asked as he mentioned his plan to wash up in the bathroom. “You look sexy when you’re all wet like that.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised, rubbing the singer’s upper arm affectionately. He was amazed that somehow, 2D didn’t look the least bit winded in spite of being a tad sweaty himself. When it came to dancing, he had crazy stamina. The man was truly full of surprises.

As he headed to the men’s bathroom, he was surprised to see a line. In a high-end club, there was no way that there was only a single stall for the men’s room. That meant some idiots were probably getting high in there behind locked doors. He stood there for a moment, contemplating whether or not he really felt like waiting, when he noticed Murdoc hanging back, yet another drink in hand, keeping an eye on the line from a distance near some empty tables in the bar’s second, less populated lounge area. Russel headed over to him.

“You need to pee after all the booze you’re pouring into your system?” he teased as he neared his friend. His voice sounded and felt foreign to him after spending so much time pressed up against the speakers; he knew his ears would be ringing well into the morning.

Murdoc snorted. “Mate, I haven’t needed bathroom breaks since I was a toddler. A real MVP like me can drink all night and not have to worry about taking a leak till morning.”

He knew for a fact that the bassist was lying, as he’d caught him relieving himself in ally ways outside of clubs on more than one occasion, particularly back when they were first experiencing fame and Murdoc’s taste for drink and drugs reached critical levels. He chose not to say anything, instead nodding along and leaning against the wall beside the smaller man.

“Honestly, I’m interested to see the dopes who skulk out of the loo. I heard some kids talking about bringing eight-balls here when Stu’n I were on the dance floor, so I wonder if we’re about to witness the Coke Brothers in all their glory. That, or some couple’s getting it on in there.” He offered whatever was in his glass to the drummer, who accepted, wincing as soon as he tasted it, It was like drinking rubbing alcohol.

“You’re the only person I know who can come to a high-end club and wind up in the darkest, quietest corner, people watching so you can make fun of some dumb kids.”

“Oh yeah?” Murdoc reclaimed his drink and took a long sip, swallowing as easily as if it were a glass of water. “Well what does that say about me? Or what do you _think_ it says about me?”

Russel recognized the spark in his eyes, the glint of flirtation, challenge, and sincere curiosity. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It means that you don’t really like crowds as much as you pretend to. I think you’d rather be in small, intimate groups of people, whenever possible. You could be the center of attention at this dance floor—or any dance floor in Essex, really—but you chose to take me here, to a place where no one gives a shit about your fame. As for what it says about you that you like to people-watch? I don’t know, but I really enjoy it too. So I guess that means we have something in common. And that’s pretty cool.” He was pleased with his analysis, but Murdoc’s face revealed that he was not.

“I wasn’t looking for a bloody psycho-analysis. That was terrible. You’re a real Freud, y’know that?”

“Don’t say that Muds,” he argued. “I’m nothing like Freud. I _know_ when I smoke cigars that it’s phallic as fuck.”

It took a second for Murdoc to get the reference, but suddenly he was laughing, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. Russel was very pleased with himself for getting such a reaction. Apparently Drunk Russel could be pretty smooth.

“Oh wait, wait, there they are, the Coke Brothers!” Murdoc pointed excitedly, and Russel had to push his hand down so it wouldn’t be totally obvious that they were pointing and staring as not one, not two, but three young men in blazers as designer jeans spilled out of the bathroom, the leader, a kid with a mop of curly hair that threatened to overtake his face, immediately started jumping up and down as he headed back to the dance floor, screaming that he loved the song currently playing. One of the other boys started dancing his way over too, taking uneven, lunging steps in a bizarre attempt to look…funny? Cool? Certainly not sober. The last lad, evidently trying to play it cool like he hadn’t just taken more meth than he could handle, followed behind, stiff and straight as a soldier, though he appeared to be quivering even from a distance.

It was pretty hilarious, and Russel found himself chuckling along with Murdoc’s tipsy hysteria until they were both sliding down the wall on the far side of the club, practically hidden behind a unused tables and chairs. Away from the dance floor and the bar, Russel realized that they were pretty much alone, and when he turned to Murdoc, the bassist had already scooted so close to him he was practically in his lap.

“Yo!” Russel jumped, but he didn’t pull away.

“Kiss me.”

“Man, I told you, I’m not sure about this. We’re in public, and I trust you Muds, I really do, but I’m not sure—”

The bassist rolled his eyes and cut him off. “You never learn.” With that, he set his drink down and leaned up into a kiss.

Russel didn’t fight him. Hell, he’d wanted to kiss the man for ages now. Murdoc tasted strongly of liquor, but his mouth was warm, and the way he reached up to drag his sharp nails lightly over the drummer’s cheek was intoxicating. Without thinking twice, Russel grabbed the smaller man by the waist and pulled him flush against him, holding tight with one hand while the other hand reached down to the waistband of Murdoc’s trousers, fingers prodding underneath to feel the garter belt again. 

Murdoc whined softly. “Didn’t know I’d get such a reaction from you, mate. I like it. Tonight was a crapshoot, but I always like when things go better’n planned.”

“You like knowing how much you turn me on? I have half a mind to drag you into the bathroom right now and rip your clothes off,” Russel breathed against his neck. “See what pretty panties you’re wearing for me.”

“That sounds delicious,” he groaned, shivering as Russel’s hand forced its way lower, feeling up as much hot skin as he could reach. “But my boyfriend is on the other side of this room, probably wondering where the hell we went.”

He pulled back slightly, looking at Russel with half-lidded eyes and reddened cheeks. “Take me home and I’ll let you take everything off.”

Russel could only nod dumbly in agreement.

“By the way, Russel,” he added as the larger man released him so they could stand and collect 2D, “you were so quick to assume I like to be away from crowds in places like this. You might’ve missed the obvious my dear: I was standing over here so I could get you alone.” He winked and sauntered away, swinging his hips and not looking back even once.

\---

It took a while to get back to Kong. Russel insisted on stopping at a diner nearby so he could eat just enough to sober up a bit. After several glasses of water and a quick sandwich, he was alert and ready to drive. Of course, if Noodle ever asked, he knew he would abridge just how many drinks he’d had that night. He would also leave out just how much 2D and Murdoc had whined like children that Russel was making them stop for food, though they both drunkenly demanded pastries before leaving the diner, which the drummer had to oblige lest he spend the rest of the night listening to them complain.

Back at home, the three of them wasted no time in checking on Noodle, finding that her enthusiasm for French films was not all she had made it seem: she’d fallen asleep during the first movie, and several others remained on top of the DVD player, unopened. Scattered around the couch were several volumes of _Fullmetal Alchemist_. Russel carried her to bed while 2D and Murdoc made a bee-line for the singer’s room.

Once he’d tucked Noodle in, Russel had a chance to collect himself as he headed towards the bedroom. As forward as Murdoc was being, he tried to remind himself that he still needed to move slowly and be tuned in to the older man’s emotions to prevent any problems. This was their first time being frisky since he’d done a great deal of damage, and however unintended the incident was, it had still dampened his relationship with both of his bandmates. The more he thought about it, the less aroused and the more concerned he was, until he finally threw open the bedroom door, ready to call the whole thing off for the night and to just talk instead.

Only Murdoc was sitting on 2D’s lap, shirt off and a lacy, cupless bra on, and there was a thick trail of saliva connecting their lips as they pulled apart to look at him, and just like that, yep, he was aroused again.

“Sorry,” he joked after a beat. “Am I interrupting something?”

2D laughed and motioned for him to come over. “Not at all, just enjoying a midnight snack. Care to join me?”

Russel leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Murdoc’s neck, and the bassist purred in response. “Absolutely. Love the bra by the way.”

“Thank you,” Murdoc said, finding the bassist’s hands and guiding them to his body as he had done in the club earlier. They both sighed in pleasure as his fingertips grazed warm skin and rough lace, easing over the material to tweak the bassist’s nipples. “I know someone in Mayfair; if you’re ever interested, I could hook you up. Know you used to like drag.”

“Still do,” Russel responded, “though I don’t know if I’d call it that. Just clothes, y’know?”

“Now I’m picturing you two in a matching set,” 2D giggled. “That would be so lovely! We have to order you something too, Russ. What colors would you like? I’m thinking royal purple or a bright, emerald green.”

“I’m down, for anything” he agreed. “But first, can I get a kiss, D?”

The blue-haired man nodded eagerly and leaned over Murdoc’s shoulder to get a taste of the drummer, whining softly against his lips. “You know, it got me pretty turned on watching you dance and get all sweaty tonight.”

“Same here,” Russel responded, kissing the corner of his mouth, his chin, his nose. “You’ve got some stamina on the dance floor.”

“On the dance floor? That what you kids call it these days?”

“Behave, Muds,” the singer chastised, snapping Murdoc’s bra strap and earning a yelp of outrage.

“Hey,” Russel interrupted their usual bickering and settled his hands on Murdoc’s hips, “think we can move this along? I’ve been dying all night.”

Murdoc only brushed his hands away with a laugh, remaining comfortably seated on his boyfriend’s lap. “Hear that, Stu? He’s been dying all night! Sounds like you back when you were always overeager.”

They shared a conspiratorial look of amusement and the drummer suddenly felt like he had fallen into a trap. 

“You two making fun of me?”

“Of course not,” Murdoc drawled, slowly getting up and pushing Russel back from the bed a few steps. “You just haven’t been trained yet. Y’see, when I dress up like this, it’s a little gift to you. To Stu. But you have to earn the nice gifts I offer you.” With that, he took one of Russel’s hands, guided it up his chest, over his collarbone and along his neck. Russel breathed deeply, focusing on the tactile sensation of the man’s skin, his smooth neck and the faint stubble along his jaw, the plump curve of his lips. “If you’re good, I’ll reward you.”

With those words, he took Russel’s index finger into his mouth and sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks. The sound that came out of Russel’s mouth was somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and 2D laughed out loud at him, though he was too caught up to pay much heed.

The bassist released his finger with a wet pop. “Now then, why don’t you help me take my clothes off? Take your time, luv, I’m not going anywhere. Oh, and you’re a bit taller than me so maybe it’d be easier for you if you were to kneel.”

Russel looked to 2D for indication of what was going on, but the blue-haired man only sat back on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head and enjoying the view. He kept his lips sealed. Seeing there was no help imminent, Russel obeyed, dropping down onto one knee and looking up at the half-dressed bassist who only smiled with an air of regality.

“Go ahead and start with the belt,” he suggested.

So the drummer unhooked the strap of his belt and yanked, hard enough that Murdoc’s slender hips jutted towards him and he could eye the growing bulge in the man’s trousers. 

“Hey hey, gentle! You have to be slow and nice, Russ, or I’ll let Stu do this for me. I once made him remove every piece of my clothing using only his teeth, so trust me, you could be here a while.”

“Okay okay, sorry,” he snapped, scaling back his aggression and slowly guiding the leather through the belt loops of his bandmate’s jeans, easing the belt off and setting it aside. “Can I take the pants off too?”

“You’ve hardly even admired the hop half,” Murdoc protested, and the drummer couldn’t be sure if he was being a tease, or if he was sincerely hurt that Russel hadn’t spent more time admiring how he looked in his bra. When he realized Murdoc was grinning at him, he smiled back and stood up, running his huge hands over the man’s belly, then his chest, up his neck to cup his cheeks gently. Right. As turned on as he was, this was a mind game, but it was clearly all about sharing pleasure. Treating intimacy like an expensive chocolate truffle: something to be unwrapped slowly, savored.

“You look fucking amazing,” he assured the bassist.

“Give us a kiss?” he demanded in his best John Lennon impression, batting his eyelashes, and Russel obliged, kissing him deeply but gently, keeping his mouth closed so he could focus on the sensation of being so close to the smaller man, and to observe the way he melted against the touches, arching his back and trusting Russel to support him as he leaned back further and further until he was practically being dipped.

Russel moved the kissing from Murdoc’s lips to his chin, then down his neck, moving to ultimately map out how nice he looked in his bra. It was clearly custom-made, he realized as he groped and stroked the older man’s shivering body: the straps and band fit his wiry, flat-chested frame perfectly. There were ornate floral designs sewn along the band of the bra, and the rusty color perfectly matched the color of the ink on the octopus tattoo the man sported on his right forearm. As ever, Murdoc’s eye for detail showed through.

He’d made it as low as the older man’s belly button when Murdoc began to moan softly, and Russel realized he was now fully hard.

“Maybe now I can get those pants off too?” he suggested.

The bassist nodded, biting back a whine when Russel’s teeth nipped at his hipbone. Having learned his lesson, the drummer moved more slowly this time; the name of the game was body worship and control. If Murdoc wanted to feel in control after what had happened last time, he was not going to argue. So he undid the button of the man’s trousers, then pressed a kiss there. He unzipped his flies, then dragged his lips down the opened zipper.

Hearing a moan that was not Murdoc’s he turned with interest to spy 2D pushing his own pants and boxers down to his knees to reveal his arousal. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Not trying to interrupt the moment.”

“No problem,” Russel responded as he carefully, slowly slid the trousers from around Murdoc’s waist and pulled them down his legs. “We should both be able to admire how nice Muds looks, right? He dressed up like this with both of us in mind, so why don’t you tell him how lovely he looks, Dee?”

The singer hummed dreamily as he watched his boyfriend and fumbled on the bedside table for a bottle of lube without taking his eyes off his lover. “He really does look amazing. You’re so sexy, babe.”

Playing into his love of praise was easy, and Murdoc’s dominatrix-inspired composure was beginning to crack. He stood there, fully exposed in his lingerie before them both, hard and flushed, fingers running over his garter belt to make sure it was in place properly.

It was, of course it was. The high-waisted garter belt held up a pair of distressed fishnets with matching embroidered designs along the top of hem, similar to the band on his bra. The panties beneath the belt were black, silk, and left nothing to the imagination. As he stepped out of his trouser legs and did a quick spin for Russel, he showed of the back of the panties, which had a heart-shaped cut-out along the waistband, displaying a cheeky peek at his bare ass, though the coverage was otherwise full. A small metal heart decal also gleamed over the front of the waistband, right above his straining cock. Accessorized panties; only Murdoc.

Russel found himself folding and refolding Murdoc’s trousers to keep himself from grabbing the man and slamming him up against the nearest wall. Instead, he bit his tongue and let 2D do the talking.

“Ooh, those panties are new, Muds! I love them! You look so good, come give me a kiss!”

Murdoc bent over the bed, showing off his round ass and threatening to give Russel an aneurism in the process, kissing his boyfriend and laughing his signature throaty laugh when 2D slapped his ass appreciatively. 

“Don’t get too fresh or I’ll handcuff you to the headboard again, bluebird.”

“I’ll be good I’ll be good! Don’t do that!”

“Well, Rr _rrr_ ussel, was it worth the wait to see my new outfit?” he asked, turning back to the drummer.

“Fuck, yes. You could be on the cover of _Playboy_ —or girl, or whatever—you could be a damn lingerie model; you’re fucking _fire_ , Murdoc. Now can I please just touch you?” he asked, desperately.

Murdoc pretended to contemplate this, a finger pressed to his lips dramatically. “Hmm….no,” he finally said, and at first Russel thought he was kidding, surely he had to be kidding. “You can look, but you can’t touch.”

“Wait, you serious? You look like that and you’re not going to let me touch you?”

“Well, mate, if it’s any consolation, Stu here isn’t allowed to touch me either. Scoot over, luv, I want to lie down on the bed,” the singer did as he was told, and Murdoc threw himself across the bed dramatically, reaching down to grip himself underneath his panties. “So if you’ve got something that needs working on, get to it.”

Russel was flabbergasted, but thankfully 2D was ready to guide him through it. “This can be fun,” he assured, urging Russel to come stand over the bed, to stand over Murdoc. He knelt up on the other side of the bassist, one hand already gripping his own dick. “D’you want to come on his body, or his face?”

Something clicked, and Russel felt his face flush deeply. “Really?”

“Psh,” Murdoc flipped his hair out of his eyes below them. “Russ here’s acting like he never jerked off on anyone before.”

“I just didn’t realize that was the name of the game tonight,” Russel snapped, hurriedly trying to get his own pants off.

2D shushed him and did it for him, easing his zipper open with the same reverent slowness that Russel had stripped Murdoc with before. Russel found himself relaxing under the singer’s touch, moaning softly as his boxers were shoved down and his cock was finally exposed. 2D gave him a few playful strokes, his hand nice and slick with lube since he’d already been playing with himself a bit.

“You’re so nice and thick, Russel,” he said. “I always forget just how good your dick feels in my hand. It's been way too long.”

“Think I could return the favor?” he offered, and 2D rewarded him with a delicious gasp-then-moan as Russel lubed his hand up and reached for the singer’s arousal. 

They fell into a rhythm, jerking each other off and groaning, occasionally kissing, over Murdoc as the bassist slowly, slowly began to touching himself, occasionally just teasing strokes over his panties, letting them watch his finger drag over the outline of his cock. Other times, he’d run his hands up and down his body, nails scraping his tummy and chest. Finally, he began to lose patience and to touch himself more aggressively, pushing the panties down slightly to establish a more comfortable rhythm with his hand.

Between watching Murdoc pleasure himself and touching and kissing 2D, Russel knew he was not going to last long this time around. Sensing this, the bassist lifted one of his fishnet-clad feet to rub against Russel’s belly.

“You like when I look like this?”

“Fuck,” Russel grunted, sliding his hand between 2D’s legs to press his fingers against his perineum, earning a high-pitched cry. “Yes, you look amazing. I wanna see you cum, Murdoc.”

“I can’t do that till you and Stu reward me,” he answered, though his hand was working quicker than it had before. “Go on, help Stu come, then you’ll get to see.”

“Russ, gimme your fingers,” the blue-haired man begged. “Fuck me, please.”

“Oh my god,” he responded, leaning over Murdoc to kiss the singer again, letting his fingers move against his hole and slowly pushing inside. 2D arched against him, babbling incoherently for more. The drummer could never deny 2D when he was begging like this, and soon he had pushed two, then three fingers into him, lube running down his wrist at this point as he finger-fucked the man faster, _faster_ , losing control at the sounds coming out of his mouth.

Eventually, 2D withdrew his hand from Russel’s dick, opting instead to stroke himself as he was fingered. 

“I’m gonna come,” he panted. “Muds, where?”

“Wherever you want, bluebird,” the bassist assured. “Make me messy okay? I love when you make me dirty. My pretty little thing, falling apart for me.”

“Oh fuck, Russel _there!_ Push it right there! Ah,” 2D’s head fell forward onto Russel’s shoulder as he finally came, shooting all over Murdoc, who opened his mouth to take in any seed that shot as far as his face.

2D’s orgasm seemed to last forever, his muscles contracted around Russel’s fingers and he shook and shook, frail body threatening to fall apart. But Russel held him together, kissing the side of his head and rubbing his arm soothingly as he finally began to come down from his high, breathing heavy. The first thing the singer did was kiss Russel with enough force to take his breath away. Then he pulled back and smirked.

“Your turn.”

No doubt there would be nights were Russel would have the wherewithal to insist 2D come a second time, or turn his attention to Murdoc and torture the bassist for winding him up so bad in the first place. But tonight, that was all he needed to hear before his hand was back on his own cock, stroking madly as he looked at the prone man below him, dressed up in his gothic lingerie and streaked with semen.

“Sorry I’m not gonna last longer tonight,” he spoke through gritted teeth as he jerked faster and faster, groaning when 2D leaned in and bit his neck.

“No need to apologize,” Murdoc assured, touching himself more leisurely as he tilted his head back and opened his mouth.

Russel finally came, world going fuzzy as the pleasure blotted out everything around him except for the feeling of his hand on his dick and the sight of his cum splattering over Murdoc’s chest, his neck, and his face. A few streaks did manage to land in his mouth, and the man moaned pornographically and swallowed.

With both partners satisfied and watching him, rapt, Murdoc finally pushed his panties down his thighs and touched himself more forcefully, still refusing to let either man touch him as he finally came all over his belly, back arching up off the bed and legs spasming till he finally fell still, panting softly.

2D was the first to move, grabbing some tissues and wiping his boyfriend clean, cooing soft praise as he did so, pointing out that the lingerie should probably be cleaned sooner rather than later in order to prevent any stains from setting in.

“I like cum stains on my clothes though,” Murdoc argued, eyes still closed. “Reminds me of all the things I did to you to earn the stains.”

“Stop being so charmingly disgusting,” 2D requested, kissing his boyfriend’s forehead and rolling back onto the far end of the bed, then yanking the bassist along with him so Russel could finally move to lie down on the bed comfortably rather than loom over its side. 

“As ever you two, well done,” Russel said as he propped some pillows up behind his head and reached for the lighter on the bedside that he knew 2D would be looking for in a matter of seconds. “I can’t believe you got me that worked up without me ever once getting to touch you Muds. And Dee, as always, you’re just fucking delicious.”

“Thanks!” the singer replied, and it wasn’t clear if he was referring to the compliment about how fun he was to fuck, or if he was grateful to be able to light the cigarette he’d already clamped between his lips.

“Stu got into yoga a while ago,” Murdoc said. “And with that, he got this whole interest in Hindu culture. Makes sense since he was also into that whole ‘Free Tibet’ movement too—”

“Actually Muds, it makes no sense since most Tibetan monks are Buddhists and yoga led me to Hinduism, which is a totally different belief system. It was chanting and kirtans that brought me to Sita and Ram—”

“Right, fascinating 2D, the guys’ head is an elephant I _get it_ ,” Murdoc interrupted. “Anyway Russel, Dents here started doing all these chants, and one of them was Sita-Rama, which he told me was all about the tantric sex of these Hindu gods. And the chanting gets faster and faster, representing sex and eventual climax, y’follow?”

Russel absolutely did not follow, but he nodded anyway because he was relaxed and blissed out from coming all over the man’s face, and he figured he should at least let him go on about Hindu deities and sexuality in other cultures.

“Well Stu told me all these stories about these two deities, and fuck if a lot of it wasn’t sexy as hell. Sita and Rama would start to have sex, and just when it would get good, they’d take a break and go meditate, or pray, or some shit like that. And then they’d come back to the good stuff, and take another break. And since they’re gods, they could have tussles that lasted months, even bloody years. Isn’t that shit just incredible?”

“I mean, I feel like you’re probably glossing over a lot of other stuff that they did, but sure, that lewd detail is great, Muds. Glad you learned something from Stu’s multiculturalism,” the drummer deadpanned.

“What he’s getting at is the tantric sex,” 2D said bluntly, blowing out a puff of smoke and passing the cigarette to his boyfriend.

“Yeah yeah yeah! That! Explain it, Stuart!”

“It’s been practiced for thousands of years, and Murdoc gave you an abridged version tonight. Super abridged. He seems to think he’s some expert now just because he’s learned to draw out foreplay a bit and heard like, half of a Krishna Das album I picked up months ago.”

“A bit? I had Russ achin’ since nine o’clock this evening, thank you very much! I think I'm an expert at this.” 

“It’s really just about experiencing eroticism with your partner in a way that can be physical and even spiritual. Well, Muds kind of bastardizes all the spiritual enlightenment that Eastern cultures sometimes ascribe to it, but—”

“I think I get it,” Russel cut him off. “It was about drawing things out tonight, winding me up, then playing cool. And making himself the center of attention so I was less concerned with my own pleasure and more interested in him. And then finally, a great orgasm. This wasn't just like, fucking like rabbits for a quick payoff.”

“It was good, right?” Murdoc asked, letting his head drop onto Russel’s shoulder. “Did you like what we did tonight?”

“You wanted to feel in control,” he answered thoughtfully. “And you were. But you still put a lot of thought and effort into making sure you worked me up so that it was worth it for me too. I’ve gotta admit, this was new for me. But I’m into it.”

“He’s into it,” the bassist repeated, sounding relieved. “Good. By the way mate, next time we’re totally getting you something nice to wear too.”

“Not sure how I feel about you picking out lingerie for me,” Russel admitted. “But…maybe you could bring me with you to go to Mayfair?”

“It’s a date,” he answered, and something about that wording made Russel’s chest ache. He couldn’t help but feel that the lines between friendship and relationship were becoming somewhat blurry, and he wasn’t sure where that was going to lead. 

Before he could say something, 2D was turning onto his side and spreading a fleece blanket over all of them, no doubt just to relax before another round of sex.

“I have some nice pieces I could wear too,” he admitted shyly. “I get a little embarrassed dressing up; don’t have the same confidence Muds does. But maybe one of these days I’ll bust out an old outfit to show you…Muds really enjoys it...”

“I’d love to see it, Dee. I’m sure you’ll look stunning,” Russel assured, pushing a loose strand of hair out of the younger man’s face and then cuddling up against Murdoc, who remained comfortably sandwiched between them, voicing no interest in a second round.

They spend the rest of the night like that, curled up, talking about Eastern deities and lingerie.

In other words, a pretty typical night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -When Russel says that he's not like Freud because he knows that smoking a cigar is phallic, he's referencing a rumor that Freud once said that "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar" after friends poked fun at him for smoking one, suggesting there was hidden sexual meaning behind the shape. I'm not sure how well known that maybe-false anecdote is so I just wanted to clarify?
> 
> -Here's the link to one of many chants for Sita and Rama performed by Krishna Das if you're interested in listening. It gets faster at the end as Murdoc describes. Typically at a live kirtan, it might get even faster and more energetic depending on everyone's mood.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ioX5n3PwZ8
> 
> That said, my knowledge of kirtans as well as the tales of Sita and Rama are not excellent; I only know a bit because my mom used to be big on Krishna Das and I used to tag along to a few kirtans she attended when I was a kid. If anything could be clarified better, LMK!
> 
> -Lastly, in case you'd like to see John Lennon's "give us a kiss line," here you go. I would just highly recommend watching the video in general because these boys are precious sons, and a huge inspiration for how I write Murdoc's more playful, silly moods. The referenced scene starts at around 3:00 :)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jw6_W5jFv-A


	11. Expression

True to his word, Murdoc booked an appointment for Russel to meet Scarlett, the lingerie and costume extraordinaire who he purchased all of his favorite outfits from. At least, the ones that his partners saw in the bedroom.

Russel shifted nervously in the back seat of the Geep, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. In a plain black tee (which had a small hole in the hem, he was just realizing) and an old pair of True Religions, he wasn’t exactly feeling glamorous, and he wondered how harshly Scarlett would judge him.

Murdoc seemed oblivious to his nerves, driving his usual thirty kilometers above the speed limit and rambling about how he’d met her at some sort of sex party in the late eighties, and had been a loyal customer and friend of hers ever since. As he weaved in and out of lanes with tires squealing like live animals, he kept one hand on 2D’s thigh the whole time. A class act, he was.

“So what do you think you’d like to get?”

It took Russel a second to realize that Murdoc was directing a question at him.

“Huh?”

“What do you want? She doesn’t just do panty sets. You could get dresses, skirts, costumes for cosplay, anything. What do you have in mind?’

Even though he knew it would only make it more noticeable, Russel pushed his index finger through the hole at the bottom of his tee. A dry cuticle caught on the fabric. Damn, he really needed to give his nails some attention. “Dunno,” he admitted. “I really didn’t expect you to bring me all the way to Mayfair. Are you uh… _sure_ she’ll have my size?”

Murdoc’s eyes flicked to Russel’s in the rearview mirror, and 2D turned himself around in the passenger seat to look at the drummer face-to-face.

“Is that what this nervousness of yours is about?” The younger man asked. “You’ve been all quiet because you’re afraid she won’t have clothes in your size?”

“This woman is a professional, not a fucking retail shop CEO,” Murdoc assured. “She has sizes for _people_ , not tweens with eating disorders. And if she has something in stock that you like but she doesn’t have the size you need, she’s an expert seamstress and can alter anything. And I do mean eeeeverything. She makes stuff fit me perfectly, and I’ve got a narrow waist, a beer belly, and saggy tits!”

“Yes, but you’ve never hit four hundred pounds on a scale.”

“Russ, don’t talk like that,” 2D urged, reaching back to touch the man’s knee. “You’ve lost a lot of weight since we got back together, and you’ve kept it off,” then he added, softer, “things are better now.”

Russel knew that both men were weary of the subject of his struggles with weight. They understood that his weight gain was directly correlated with his depressive episodes, and grew uncomfortable with him acknowledging how out of hand he got sometimes, like after he lost Del.

They weren’t idiots looking to appease him with “you’re not that big, Russ,” but they also didn’t want him to be down on himself when they were supposed to be having a nice day out. He knew he was killing Murdoc’s excitement and he hated himself for it.

“Things are better now,” he conceded. “It’s still hard sometimes, though. Shopping is a chore some days. There’s a disparity between what I like to imagine I could look like dressed up, and what I actually see when I look in a mirror.”

“Well you’re not going to be disappointed here,” 2D assured. “This lady is the real deal; Muds isn’t going to let you down.”

“I don’t doubt Muds,” he assured. “I doubt…myself, I guess.”

“Just wait,” Murdoc promised as he cut off a dump truck and dove across three lanes into an exit. “You’ll like her, you’re going to have a great time. You’ve just got to meet her.”

“Maybe we can stop for Chinese on the way back,” 2D suggested arbitrarily. 

\--

The exterior of the shop was not what Russel had been expecting. Scarlett rented the second floor of a three-story walk-up; the first floor was a seedy-looking deli, and a sign on the second-story window simply read _Custom Clothing and Alterations_.

2D stopped to smoke a cigarette and look inside the windows of some of the nicer shops, but Murdoc, eager to see his friend, dragged Russel right over, ringing the bell for entrance to the stairs, and rushing up.

He burst through the door, casting aside beads hung up over the door frame a-la 1970s, and threw his arms open. They walked into a single room sporting a small desk with a computer, printer, and cluttered with sewing supplies and dozens of different colored spools of thread. Near the window that overlooked the street sat a table with three sewing machines, and the rest of the room was occupied by racks of the brightest clothes Russel had ever seen. Mannequins in mardi gras masks leered at them in puffy sleeves and leather chaps, tulle skirts and ultra padded bras. Sequins gleamed, rhinestones dazzled, and the drummer had to take a deep breath to ground himself as he took it all in.

Murdoc was less impressed. “Where is the gorgeous, the esoteric, the one and only h _hhhar_ lot, Scarlett?” he demanded theatrically in a voice far too loud for the cluttered space.

“Is that Murdoc Niccals? In my fine establishment?” called a voice from behind a small Japanese-style room divider painted with mountaintops, red sunsets, and cranes. “Get out of here before I call the fuzz and have you hefted back to the dungeons where you belong!”

The woman who strutted out from behind the divider was over six feet tall and clacked forward in high-heeled golden sandals that Russel knew he recognized from the runway; he just couldn’t recall the designer. She wore a cherry red corset, a fur mini skirt, and a silk robe covered in paisley print. Her thick black hair was piled on top of her head. Her features were not the soft, English ones he had been expecting. Instead, her thick eyebrows that almost joined, her flashing black eyes, and smooth dark skin suggested Middle Eastern heritage, while her strong jaw and dimpled chin looked masculine. That coupled with the low voice with which she spoke made him suspect that she was gender non-conforming like himself. Murdoc had failed to mention that.

She rushed over to the bassist, flashing a white smile framed by rouge lips. She towered over him, but Murdoc didn’t seem to mind, hugging her tight and pushing his face playfully into her copious cleavage, earning a smack against the side of his head.

“You look good,” she spoke into his hair. “This is what, the third, fourth time in a row that I’ve seen you and you don’t look like a meth head. I’m so proud of you honeybun.”

“It’s him,” Murdoc said, eyes closed. “He’s…things feel better. In control.”

“But this…” Scarlett broke away from the hug to appraise Russel. “This isn’t him. This is your drummer, the one who likes diamanté sandals and hails from fabulous New York.”

“Russel Hobbs,” he said, holding out a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Muds has had a lot to say about you, all high praise. And that’s unusual for him.”

She chuckled and shook his hand, gold rings glinting on each of her fingers. “Murdoc and I go way back. It’s great to hear you’ve had such a positive impact on his life. He says you’re the rock of the band.”

“He’s said that about me?” Russel asked, looking past Scarlett and over at Murdoc, who looked quite peeved that she’d said words perhaps meant to be kept confidential. “Maybe he just meant to tell you that I’m _in_ his rock band.”

“Of course,” she clicked her tongue then, and looked him over from head to toe. “But he also mentioned that you would benefit from some help in the fashion department and my dear sweet Venti mocha, I have to agree with him about that.”

“Wait, did you just call me a Starbucks drink?”

“Greens, yellows, purples, all generally fantastic colors for your skintone. I understand your tastes often run feminine: I’ve got some great magenta fabrics you might love. Now I also know you like shoes; any clothing designers you drawn inspiration from? Give me everything you’ve got, I have a lot of work to do. And take the stupid cap off while you’re in here, babe, ain’t no sun in this cloudy city gonna justify that hat.”

And just like that, she was a blur of red thumping through the room in heels, grabbing satin scarves and throwing them over her shoulders, holding various blouses and robes against Russel’s chest and considering how they looked, either throwing them over his shoulder in approval, or chucking them at Murdoc, who promptly deposited them in a pile on a decorative Roccoco chair.

2D had the bad timing to walk in at that moment, and he yelped as a huge sequin-covered dress was immediately tossed in his direction.

“Ooh, sorry,” Scarlett called out. “Oh, that’s Blueberry, right? Nice to finally meet in person! Sweetie, how did you like the corset?”

2D looked down at the dress and blushed. “It fit uh, perfectly, thank you. Think Murdoc liked it even more’n me though.”

“Of course he did sweetheart, because it made you look less like a skinny ghoul and more _ethereal_!” She spun then, nearly sending a flamboyantly-dressed mannequin flying, though she didn’t seem fazed. “Alright, think we’ve got a good start. You want to try things on?”

Russel took a deep breath. “Uh, maybe we can slow down for a second. I haven’t even told you what I’m looking for. I thought this was going to be less about playing dress-up and more about me getting something custom-made and designed with you?” he looked over at Murdoc again, this time maybe just a little bit pleading. As kind as Scarlett was being, her energy level outpaced his, and he was already feeling overwhelmed. If Murdoc had tricked him into coming here so he and 2D could watch Russel squeeze himself into all sorts of ridiculous clothes for them to have a laugh over him, he wasn’t sure if his pride would ever recover from the deceit.

Fortunately, Scarlett perceived this in his face instantly, and broke into a warm smile. “Didn’t mean to overwhelm you, sweetie,” she said. “I’m sorry. Tell you what? Leave these two dummies to their own devices and you and I will talk privately about what you’re looking for. Murdoc, honey, can I trust you and Blueberry not to damage my wares?”

Murdoc had rushed over as soon as he’d perceived Russel’s distress (remarkably quick actually, considering how fast he was to scoff at shows of emotion), and he nodded. “Baby, this store will look exactly as it was when we walked in—” he was interrupted by a crash as 2D somehow managed to knock one of the sewing machines, along with several plastic containers that had held dozens of sorted buttons, onto the floor. A lone button rolled over and only stopped when Murdoc stomped on it with his boot, blinking a few times in attempts to register the stupidity of his boyfriend.

“Sorry,” 2D mumbled, bending over to pick up the sewing machine and immediately getting tangled up in several different colored threads. “ _Bugger_. Murdoc, help me out, mate!”

Scarlett stared at him, expression unreadable. Murdoc slapped her ass and strode over, grabbing everything that had hit the floor. “You tend to Russel; I’ll take care of the dullard.”

“Very well,” she answered, “don’t make me kill you honeybun. I love you, but I swear I’ll put you in an early grave.”

“Got it, Scar,” he spoke as he began to sort buttons. “Now go work with Russ. Make him feel like a model during Fashion Week!”

“Oi Muds, look,” 2D took a pink button and placed it over his eye, squinting so it stayed in place even when he took his hand away. “I got pink-eye!”

Scarlett led Russel behind the paper divider as the two cackled at the stupid joke. “Sorry about them,” he mumbled. “Anything that they destroy I’m happy to pay for.”

“Oh now, don’t you worry, luv. Your money’s no good here,” she responded. “Murdoc is taking care of today’s consultation, so you just focus on letting me find the clothes that make you feel fabulous.”

The drummer shook his head. “Whoa, that’s very nice of him, but I really can’t accept. The fact that he even got this appointment to see you is enough; I can cover the cost of—”

“You probably didn’t know Murdoc in the early nineties, right?” she interrupted him, twisting a loose strand of hair out of her face and tucking in back into her bun.

“Um, no,” he said, surprised by the random change in topic. “We met in ninety-eight, I think? Maybe a little earlier.”

“So you met him once he’d ditched the speed addiction,” she said, pulling several fashion magazines out from a tray and sliding them over to him. He didn’t recognize the names of any of the magazines, but they weren’t the usual ones on coffee tables in salons or hotel lobbies. When he opened them, he glimpsed models in clothes for various seasons. “He was thin back then, skeletal,” she spoke as he looked through them. “And there was this despair lurking in his eyes at all times, like he just couldn’t handle another day of the torture. God, the circles under his eyes were scary. He’d have sex with anyone and I mean _anyone_ , no boundaries. It was like he was trying to punish himself, or distract himself I guess. We became friends because when he was lucid, he was smart and funny and one of the only blokes who didn’t have any nasty words for a six-foot woman with five-o-clock shadow trying to act dainty.”

For a moment, something crossed her face and Russel felt an instant connection to her. They hadn’t known the same struggle, by any means. Scarlett’s pain and experiences were her own. But he knew how hard it was to be the biggest person in a room, to have dark skin in a pale man’s city. To question gender norms that most people took for granted.

He also knew how few fucks Murdoc gave about any of those things, how accepting he’d always been, saving his coldest vitriol for the rich and powerful and allying himself with any other underdogs he came across.

“You felt _safe_ when you were with him,” Russel said. Then, quickly correcting himself, “never mind. Not safe, exactly, but—”

She grinned. “I know what you mean. I felt comfortable in my own skin around him. Can’t say I felt safe watching him snort lines off of porn stars’ tits; I did at least know that he wasn’t going to judge me. But my point is, back then, he behaved as though he was trying to get himself killed, or at least trying to numb himself completely until he died. Some nights I would find him comatose with drugs, or hysterical after bad trips. He didn’t always know just what he was doing to himself…what other people were doing to him…”

Russel’s mind slid back to that night, to Murdoc almost too afraid to ask Russel to stop, his mouth hanging open as anxiety struck him silent. “Yeah, I get it Scarlett,” he responded, desperately wanting to steer the conversation anywhere else.

“But look at him now,” she nodded her head in the direction of his two bandmates; they couldn’t see them, but he could hear both of their voices chatting idly as they tidied up on the other end of the room. “Committed to one person. Clean for a couple of years now. He’s put on weight and he smiles so easily. Let me make something clear to you, sweetie. If you ever need anything, Old Scarlett here will get it for you. Because you took a man who means a lot to me, and you didn’t turn him away. You took a gamble and you trusted him, and now he’s successful and happy. He clearly feels safe around you and he’s made it quite clear in his own way that he thinks the world of you. So you’d best believe you’re not giving me a pence today. Just promise me that you’ll continue to look after that dolt.”

“I can’t take all the credit for what you’re seeing,” he admitted. “He’s not perfect, for one thing. He traded the cocaine for alcohol—”

“No, he was always an alcoholic.”

“Oh. Well he still drinks to excess anyways. He still does stupid, reckless shit all the time. Pretty sure he nearly drove us off the road a dozen times just getting here. But even if he is happier than he used to be, the person you should be thanking is 2D. I don’t know where he gets his limitless stores of patience and compassion, but that guy is amazing.”

“You’re modest,” Scarlett said. “I like that. Case and point, my little idiot’s finally growing up. He’s fallen in love, and however you factor into the equation—a little _ménage á trois_ or whatever it is you like to call it—“”

“Okay, wow, Murdoc really filled you in on everything, didn’t he? Good to know,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I kind of assumed he’d introduced me as a friend of his. This is embarrassing.”

Scarlett smirked. “A friend that he brought to an undergarment shop? Yes, that’s a platonic thing men do. Relax, this is not a place of judgment and anyway, it’s not what we’re here for. Let’s bring this back to _you_. What are you in the market for? Lingerie? I do other things, obviously, although that’s probably what I’m best at. I can order anything from any major designer you can name, and if you need me to customize it, I will. I can also create completely custom-made clothes from scratch, but you have to understand that will take a little more time. So what would you like?”

“I um,” he blushed and gently pushed a magazine filled with women in bras and thongs to the side. “I know Muds is the lingerie king, but I don’t know if that’s actually what I want.”

“Something more conservative? Great choice!”

“I’m a huge fan of Versace, though lately I’ve been drooling over Giuseppe Zanotti’s sneakers and some of his heels too. His entire spring collection this past year really blew me away. Do you know any clothing designers that capture that aesthetic? Preferably with a little more urban edge to them?”

She jumped up and grabbed a binder. “Do I! Absolutely. Now you’re giving me something I can work with! So I’m starting to see where you’re going with style, but tell me colors. As I said before, with your skin tone I’d recommend darker colors over pastels. I’d love to get you into some purple or gold. Oh and some cobalt might work. Ooh, yes, I’ve got a Tom Ford eye shadow I’d love you to try on for me before you leave.”

“You do makeup too?” he asked, impressed. He was less experienced with makeup than he was with fashion, but the prospect was exciting.

She waved her hand in a so-so gesture. “One of my girlfriends does. I don’t have her artistry, but I love to help clients create a custom, bold look, and sometimes you need a little makeup to make that look pop, you know? Icing on a cake.”

Russel had been flipping through several magazines, and his finger froze over one dress in particular. Scarlett nodded approvingly. He grinned back at her, suddenly feeling at ease. He was in the presence of someone who understood what he scarcely understood about himself, working alongside an expert to help him feel something he almost never got to feel.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun,” Scarlett assured him.

They were together for over an hour, pouring over pictures in Scarlett’s fashion binder and in magazines, discussing his favorite types of clothes and runway looks. She took his measurements several times over and recorded them in a tiny spiral notebook on her table. He gave her an idea of the flounciness he liked in mid-length skirts; she knew the best fabrics to look for, and made note of several friends to call to place a few orders. They moved onto shoes from there, and Scarlett surprised him by pulling out a pair of stunning satiny heels in his size.

“I’ve never seen something so delicate in my size,” he admitted, his fingers running over the cotton candy-pink ribbons that were meant to be tied around the ankle.

“You have to be very careful with these,” she advised. “They stain so easily. Never wear them out on concrete, only indoors, understand? But when the skirt comes in, they’ll look wonderful with it. You’ll want to stick to black flats for the dress we ordered. Now how about a top?”

“I don’t know…I like skirts and dresses so much, I hadn’t even considered a top.”

“Well sweetie, you’re not wearing a designer-made skirt and custom heels with a tee-shirt with holes in it,” she remarked, pointing to the hole in his shirt he had lamented over earlier. 

To his surprise, he wasn’t as humiliated at her noticing as he’d thought he would be. He just shrugged. “Then you guide me, ‘cause I got nothing in mind.”

“I’m thinking either a body suit to wear under the skirt, or a corset to offset the flowy bottom, maybe. Do you have a preference?”

He actually laughed out loud. “You think this belly’s ever been squeezed into either of those things?”

Scarlett made a face. “Why not? Why shouldn’t your belly get to look cute as anyone else’s?”

“I’m not saying it shouldn’t I’m just saying…I’ve never…” he grappled for the excuse he would need to get her off his case, substituting with a vague hand gesture when words failed him.

Taking his disbelief as a challenge, she was instantly on her feet, clacking across the room to a pile of clothes that must have been for plus-sized clients. She tossed a few blouses out of the way, then a pair of panties with faux carnations around the waistband. Three bras were thrown to the side next, each with cups so big Russel could probably have fit his entire head inside. Finally finding what she was looking for, she strode back over to him with a black leather corset in hand. He had to admit that it looked like it would fit, but it was the last thing on earth he ever wanted to wear.

“No,” he responded flatly.

“Well obviously it would look like shit with the skirt we’re ordering, but I just want you to try this on. To prove a point,” she quipped. “Yes, this is not the type of thing you’ve expressed interest in wearing, I know that, doll. Put it on anyway.”

“Try that on? Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Wear _that_?”

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, just trust me. Your size does not exclude you from wearing whatever I have in stock. I’ve seen your type before: you’re the least judgmental man in the world when it comes to others, but you’re so quick to go after yourself, to put yourself down. Think I’ve never met clients like that? I’ve got your number—” Russel averted his eyes from her stern look, focusing instead on the stitching along the seam of the corset. Her tone softened then. “I just want you to see how good you can look when you stop fantasizing about dressing nice and start actually doing it. Treating yourself to something fun, something you’ve wanted for a while. You deserve it, Russel. God only knows, you deserve it.”

He wanted to trust her, he really did, but it was so hard to picture the corset looking good on his frame. 

“Here,” she suggested, reading his hesitation. “I’ll step out, okay? There’s a full-length mirror to your left. Just try it on, no one’s looking, no one’s going to see. If you hate how it looks, fine. Just know that you can wear something like that.”

“Okay,” he sighed, standing and taking the article of clothing from her.

She smiled in satisfaction and walked around the divider. “Let me know when you’re decent. That might be a tad big on you, by the way. I don’t have anything exactly your size in stock, but that should make do. Just be careful; I have a client picking it up next week.”

Once he was satisfied that he was alone, Russel pulled his shirt off and picked the corset up dubiously, not entirely sure how to even get it on. There were clasps along the side, which he opened, and he then slid the leather around his middle. It felt a bit stiff underneath his armpits, and he was immediately put off by how the leather didn’t breathe. In the small, warm room, he was immediately aware that he’d have to remove the corset as soon as he got it on, lest he start to sweat. He sucked in his gut a bit, then began re-securing the clasps, surprised when he didn’t have to struggle or strain. In fact, once he had fastened it completely and adjusted it so that the simple lace-up ribbons in the front fell straight down his sternum, he was surprised to find that it actually felt just a tad loose on him, though it could not be tightened any further.

Russel looked over in the mirror, expecting the result to be hilarious, but his breath actually hitched.

He looked… _sexy_.

Sexy in a way he had never imagined he would. He was aware of his charm, and both 2D and Murdoc had called him sexy and attractive on multiple occasions. He’d always known that his size didn’t preclude him from such adjectives, and had displayed himself in confidence for lovers on plenty of occasions, and to their immense satisfaction. But this was different. Something about the old-fashioned corset, the expensive glossy finish of the leather, the tasteful details down the chest: he felt sophisticated, timeless. The cut of the material perfectly accentuated his powerful arm and shoulder muscles, toned from doing a majority of the heavy lifting of band equipment since 2D was too weak to do so and Murdoc too stubborn. He lifted his arms slightly, admiring the way the light caught the smooth black leather, his smooth dark skin, rippling with strength. 

This was something a temptress might wear in an old black and white movie. It was something Scarlett no doubt would wear to one of those sex parties she and Murdoc frequented. It was a raw declaration of sensuality and physical presence, demanding attention in a way he’d never thought to express himself, and without a hint of apology or willingness to compromise.

He ogled himself for a few more moments, stepping to the left, to the right. From every angle, he looked great. Granted, the corset wasn’t meant to be worn with True Religions and ratty Nikes with grayed laces, but the look held up in spite of that.

A little shyly, he peeked around the divider to get Scarlett’s attention. She was sitting on the front counter by the cash register, swinging her legs back and forth and chatting with Murdoc and 2D.

She noticed him trying to get her attention and smiled. “I told you! You look stunning, right? Don’t you love it?”

He nodded, and that’s when 2D’s face lit up. “Can we see?” he asked.

“Ooh, Blueberry, if he doesn’t want to step out from behind there, we shouldn’t push him,” she started, but Russel cut her off.

“It’s okay. I mean, do you guys really want to see?”

“Yes!” the singer and bassist both chimed, 2D even clasping his hands beseechingly to encourage the drummer.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Russel stepped out from behind the divider, letting them both take in his new look.

The result was instantaneous: 2D and Murdoc both dropped their jaws, freezing as they took in the corset.

2D was the first to recover with a simple drawn out “woooow.” Murdoc nodded his head approvingly. 

“I’ve never seen you look like this,” he admitted.

“Is this good?”

“Ask the tightening in my trousers, mate.”

“Murdoc!” 2D scolded, mortified at his crassness. Scarlett’s eyes flitted down for a brief moment, before she returned her gaze to Russel, miraculously keeping her composure. “Yes, Russ, you look…” the singer trailed off, thoughtful. “Well I’ve never seen you wearing something for the sake of looking like, sexual I guess. You usually just kind of exude this attitude. But wearing that it’s like _I’m bloody hot and I know it and I wanna know what you’re gonna do about it_.”

He chuckled. “That’s what it’s like, huh?”

“Are you buying it?” he asked.

“No, it’s on hold for someone else.”

“I’ll pay double what they’re giving you Scarlett,” Murdoc piped, turning to the seamstress. She scoffed. 

“Absolutely not. That came from Tokyo. I’m not dealing with that customer service department again to get another delivery.”

“But look at him! He looks incredible! And look at the way he’s standing! Bloody confident for once! He knows how good he looks!”

“It’s fine, Murdoc,” Russel responded. “Scarlett is placing an order for some clothes for me already. And I’ve found a pair of shoes I’ll be taking home today. I’m good.”

“Really, you had some success then, huh?” he slapped his hands together in glee. “Didn’t I tell you she’s a miracle worker?”

“You were right,” he admitted, turning his smile to Scarlett, who took several bows. “But we’re not done yet. I still need a top. And I’m letting her do the honors of ordering it for me.”

Scarlett lit up with excitement and leapt across the room to gather some of her magazines. “Yes! I won’t let you down, sweetheart! I’ll pick out something perfect and make sure everything comes in at the same time. I’m always glad to see another satisfied customer.” 

\--

Their combined enthusiasm following the day’s outing carried over into the bedroom that night. Russel found himself between Murdoc and 2D, getting fucked and giving head respectively. He could barely keep himself together, eyes fluttering at the dizzying pleasure as Murdoc hit his prostate with each perfectly-aimed thrust, but hardly able to voice this as 2D was ruthless, scarcely giving him a moment to catch his breath before he was sliding his length back down Russel’s throat, praise and whines spilling from his mouth.

When they finally collapsed onto the bed, spent, 2D was almost instantly pulling Russel into a passionate make-out session, hands everywhere on the drummer while Russel could only grip the singer’s hair for dear life as he tried to regain composer while having the breath sucked from his lungs in sloppy kisses. Before he knew it, he was being rolled onto his back and 2D was reaching down between his legs, stroking his thighs, getting his fingertips slick on residual lube that remained on them from Murdoc’s previous endeavors. 

“You—can’t—be serious,” Russel murmured between kisses as the younger man’s fingers began to play with his used hole, tracing and teasing. “We just went at it. You can’t... _mm_...be hard already.”

But the singer rolled his hips against Russel’s, and the hardness against his thigh told him that yes, 2D really was remarkable in that regard.

Murdoc, finally having regained composure himself, sat up, lit a cigarette, and laughed throatily as he watched his boyfriend urge Russel into yet another round.

“Please,” the singer moaned against Russel’s neck, dragging his tongue from ear to collarbone. “It’s been ages since I’ve been inside you. Please?”

The drummer glanced at Murdoc for support, but he only offered a salacious grin and waggled his eyebrows. “Hey,” he said, “I either get to watch a sexy display, or he gets pissy at you and comes to me. I win either way, Russ.”

“Fine,” he chuckled. “But just because I don’t want to share Dee with you, old man,” he wrapped his arms around the singer, pulling him close, and kissed the top of his head, earning a giggle.

“Guess I’ll enjoy the show then,” Murdoc responded, taking a deep drag from his smoke and passing a condom to the singer.

Russel let out a low groan, spreading his legs for the singer, babydoll pink satin heels kicking out slightly as 2D’s fingers slipped in deep and _curled_.

\---

It was a few days later that Russel found himself playing video games with 2D, something they had begun doing more often as a means of spending time together. They didn’t chat much at first, focusing on making their avatars fight, Russel losing almost every round since the singer remained the reigning video game champ of the band.

“Any word on when those clothes you ordered will arrive?” 2D asked, fingers moving rapidly although the rest of his body was sprawled back against the couch lazily.

“No…Scarlett said about three weeks, and that she would call me when everything came in. So for now, it’s just the shoes I brought home.”

“Oh.”

“What made you think to ask that?” Russel quizzed, forgetting whether it was “A” or “B” he was supposed to press to jump, and finding out too late that it was neither.

“I was just thinking of how sexy you’d look in some lingerie,” the other man sniffed, leveling up three times in a row (how was that even fair?).

Russel smiled a bit: the singer’s slumped body language and the way his face remained focused on the television screen suggested that he was totally engrossed, but apparently his thoughts were already wandering to the bedroom. The more time Russel spent with the man, the more he realized that 2D’s sex drive and cravings made Murdoc look like a monk half the time.

“I didn’t order any underwear, Dee. I ordered a dress, a skirt, and a top. Just traditionally feminine clothes. Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not disappointed,” he said, chancing a quick smile at his friend. “You’ll look gorgeous in them I’m sure, and I can’t wait to see. I never cared much for fashion, but if it makes you happy, I’m happy.”

“You know, I feel like I never really got the chance to properly thank Muds for setting all that up for me. He’s been making himself scarce lately. Or is it just me?”

“Nah, ain’t just you, mate. He’s been spending time chatting with that Wee Jimmy Manson bloke, who I bloody hate. But I guess they’re drinking buddies now or something.”

“That’s who he’s been spending time with?” Russel pursed his lips. “Yikes. We’ll have to talk some sense into Muds. He keeps bad company when he’s drunk.”

“Kinda like Ringo Starr.”

“Yeah, just like Ringo,” he glanced at the singer. “Seriously though, you gotta get Muds to hang around some time this week so I can thank him for everything he did for me. Setting me up with his friend, paying for a damn designer outfit for me. I almost feel like he’s trying to be like…”

When he didn’t complete the thought, 2D stole another glance at him interest in the game waning. “What?”

“No, never mind, I don’t want to say it anymore.”

2D paused the game and gave a lopsided smile. “C’mon, tell me what you were going to say. Do you not like how he’s treating you nicely?”

“I just get a little embarrassed, dude. I almost feel like…he’s like sugar daddy okay?”

The younger man dropped his controller onto the couch as his shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh my god!” he managed between more laughter and an adorable snort. “Muds, a bloody sugar daddy! He’s gonna love that one! Where’s my phone? I wanna text him that right now!”

“No way!,” he dropped his own controller, ready to snatch the singer’s phone out of his hands if he managed to find where he’d left it. “Don’t you tell him I said that! Please, Dee, keep it between us. I just feel weird having him buy me shit and act all nice to me just ‘cause I’m sucking his dick.”

“Russel,” his laughing fit died down as he tried to speak. “That’s not it at all. Murdoc is terrible talking about his feelings, but he really likes you. And he wants to make sure you understand how appreciated you are. His going out of his way for you is his way of communicating that he wants to be good to you because he likes the time spent with you, not just the time spent fucking. Does that make sense?”

“Kind of…”

“It’s like this. If I really liked that we’d gotten closer, but I was afraid you thought I was just happy that we were having lots of good sex—which we are—maybe I’d want to be extra nice to show that it’s not only the moments of fucking that make me happy, but just you, the whole package, Russ. If Muds was a sugar daddy, he’d just buy you cute trinkets and give ‘em to you after you fucked. He used to do that with me before we were dating. He’d just give me cool shit as presents. Sometimes while he was still inside of me.”

“Dee, way too much detail here!”

The singer shrugged. “I’m just saying. When we were recording our first album, a few times we hooked up. He was normally super drunk, but the sex was still really good. Sometimes he’d give me little zombie figurines, the kind you get in machines at the store. Or he’d give me old jewelry, probably stuff he’d stolen from other lays. It was cute, but not very touching.” He leaned back, looking lost in thought. “Yeah, it took a long time before he started to make any real effort with me.”

“I’m sorry it was a rough start,” Russel said. “Though I don’t think he’s going anywhere. Now that he’s with you, it’s pretty clear that he’s really into you and willing to put in some actual effort.”

“Oh, I know he loves me, even if he never says it,” the younger man agreed. “We’re finally where I want us to be. And he’s making efforts to make you feel like more than a sex object too. He chose to travel with you to Mayfair, to take the time showing you off to an old friend. That’s not something you just do to a friend-with-benefits. It’s something you do when you realize you have a friend that’s making you a better version of yourself, and you wanna brag about that friend to the world a little bit.”

Now Russel felt his cheeks heating up a bit. He remembered his conversation with Scarlett, her assurance that Murdoc’s life was improving, her confidence that Russel had something to do with it. “You really think that I make Murdoc a better version of himself?”

“Yeah, of course I do, Russ,” he touched his friends arm. “I think you make me a good version of myself too. Even better than I was before. And I was already loads better when the band reformed.”

“You are better,” he agreed, ruffling his friend’s bright hair. “Much more confident. It’s a good look.”

Seeing that positive talk was now the directive, 2D brushed his friend’s hand out of his hair and smiled. “You’re doing amazing yourself, Russ. I know that producing this album has been difficult for you. Even still, you’re trying so hard, and your beats are solid as ever, and it’s really uniting the four of us and letting us create some great music. You’re overcoming a lot, and you just keep growing from it more and more.”

“It has been hard,” he admitted. “At first, finding the energy to make music without Del was pretty tough…”

He paused when he found the singer’s hand on top of his. He looked up, and met the younger man’s gaze.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I know it hurts that he’s gone. But you’re not alone,” 2D said. “I’m here for you. To help you create music when it’s hard. Music is always the answer. It’s what brings us together. It’ll always help make things right.”

“I appreciate it, Stu,” he responded, surprising them both by using the man’s real name. “You really make it easier.”

“I wanna help make you better,” he was leaning in closer, and Russel realized that he was leaning in as well.

Suddenly they were kissing, touching each other’s shoulders and faces tenderly, and 2D was closing the gap between their bodies and pressing against him, warm and always so gentle. There was no urgency, just laconic pets, soft brushing of lips, noses bumping lightly.

They’d never kissed outside of the bedroom before, and without Murdoc present. It hardly felt taboo though; kissing 2D was such a natural gesture, so comforting, soothing even.

After a few minutes, they pulled back, tips of their noses pressed together as they smiled at one another.

“Best drummer in the world,” 2D mumbled.

“Awww, you’re so sweet,” Russel said in a playful tone to offset how deeply touched he was. “Love you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment.

Then they sank in. 2D’s eyebrows shot up, and he quickly pulled away and began fiddling with his controller, pretending that the cap to replace batteries had been loose.

Russel leaned back away from the singer, mouth open to say something, a quick rebuttal to rescind his faux pas. 

Coming up with nothing, he stood up.

“I just realized I have to go,” he said never once looking at his friend.

It was possible that 2D said “yeah,” in a quiet voice in response, or it was possible that the drummer imagined that as he dropped his controller onto the floor, having forgotten that it was sitting in his lap. He rushed out of the living room, making his way to his bedroom and locking himself in there, away, where he belonged. Where he couldn’t possibly fuck things up any more than he just had.

Sinking down onto his bed, he pressed his fingers into his temples, blood rushing in his ears.

“No, no, no.”


End file.
